A Short Tryst With The Mountains

Where Journeys end, stories begin

During a trek to a remote, mystic monastery, I stopped over for a month at a tiny village in Zanskar Valley. The hamlet, felt like the last point on earth, beyond which lay miles and miles of barren mountains - majestic, immovable, invincible yet ever changing! Once in a while random adventure seekers trekked across them, enduring all the adversities, of a rough terrain inhabited by snow leopards, for that ineffable, glorious feeling of having triumphed over the untamed.  Aware of my limitations, I contended myself by capturing the breathtaking experience in my camera.

Some days, the mountains were cloaked behind layers of cottony clouds waiting to reveal well-kept secrets. Some days, the peaks glistened with fresh dust of snow while romancing the sunrays kissing them. Some days, they looked dry, barren and lifeless as if in mourning. Yet other days, they looked like a surreal painting on a bright blue canvas.  The mountain-scape kept changing, mysterious, intimidating to sublime and alluring.

The mountains spoke a story of change.  Change, they say is inevitable but not everlasting. It brings with it the apprehension of letting go the known yet it gives the thrill of discovering the unknown.