The blistering wind taking you by surprise every time you don’t have shelter. The random ear-pops as the altitude rises. Narrow roads yet refreshing sights. Miniature huts scattered through the gigantic folds of mountains. The inimitable beauty of it all leaving you bedazzled.
Landmarks. Hill stations. You have heard those names. You have heard their stories. You have heard of their beauty. You have heard of their fame. But have you heard of the unsaid words in each script? Have you heard the ragged breaths between each word and the inaudible movements? Have you noticed those places in-between? Have you seen the sun rays striking the mountains, haloing out the rest of the scenery, giving you vibes of a summer beach. The blue sky cascading in the backdrop, occasional glimpses of snowy peaks, and the wild mountain goats at arm’s length. Merry children having reindeer-like noses and unkempt hair, with their untold stories. Creaky wooden bridges and ice-water springs.
Everything so mesmerizing it clings to you, and every breath you have taken in that air still surrounds you days later, every rock you have touched has a remnant on your fingers, every waterfall that slipped by your feet still tickling your toes. The whimsical places burned in your memory forever. Because in all those in-between places ordinary turned into extra-ordinary.