Treasured memories and magpies
WE humans are like magpies, happily hoarding something — books, music, clothes. Those rich enough splurge on art, wine and suchlike. I am also guilty — I love to collect moments and memories.
We experienced a rich cascade of lifelong memories when we went to Mashobra in Himachal Pradesh one summer to spend a week in a quaint little cottage, nestling on the edge of a steep hill. We spent the days sitting in the verandah facing the seemingly unending expanse of the Himalayas soaring high.
One day, we went on an exhilarating afternoon drive to Naldehra. A pine forest hugged one side of the road and the soaring mountains the other. We rolled down the windows and felt the crisp mountain air caressing our cheeks and ruffling our hair. We seemingly reached Naldehra in no time, but did not want to break the spell by getting down to see the usual touristy spots. So, we turned around and instead enjoyed the ride back on that beautiful mountain road.
We had gone to the mountains broken and lacerated by an irreparable loss. My father-in-law had lost his doting wife — who had been by his side for 50 long years — and my husband his beloved mom. Her passing was heartbreaking for all of us, but for the two of them, it was gut-wrenching. She had valiantly fought cancer for almost two long decades. Although she bravely tried to live years in days, she was gone one day, leaving behind loved ones who felt cheated and defeated.
The time we spent huddled together up there in the tranquillity of the mountains was akin to spiritual healing for us. The family drew strength not only from each other but also from the soothing serenity of nature and the majestic mountains. The environs around seemed to embrace us like a mother’s hug.
Each day restored a bit of our spirits. I watched my husband looking at the night sky often as if looking for his mother up there, somewhere among the stars. I remember my father-in-law reading Randy Pausch’s iconic book The Last Lecture in which the writer movingly describes his battle with pancreatic cancer. I saw the youngest of our boys, who had discovered the book and thoughtfully left it around for all of us to read, nodding his head wisely while sitting next to his grandpa. It is a treasured memory of a 15-year-old gently leading us from grief to acceptance.
So, every time I am asked the inevitable question about the souvenirs which I got back from a trip, I nod vigorously. Unforgettable moments and lifelong memories are my takeaways every time. Spoken like a true-blue magpie, I believe!
