Running away to the hills

Someone told me that if you must run; runaway to someplace worthwhile. That’s what I did last weekend. Took an awful 12 hr bus-ride to a buddhist heaven in the hills, alabeit I was sponsored by ‘friends’ (and yeah… I don’t if that’s what they are- so the single quotes)– I walked, searched for grass, refuelled my lungs with mountain air and loved. Interesting. I was hoping this would be my cathartic experience– turned out to be a chilled out chilly junkie ride. Catharsis is tougher than you imagine and darn! It never happens like in the movies. I guess I will never be the Bollywood heroine staring out wistfully at cloud capped hills with silent tears rolling ever so gracefully down my cheeks. My catharsis will be in the middle of a crowded Delhi road- or in the middle of a cooking session. I will never be able to cry with my guy around to hold me and quienten my sobs. The timing like everything else will be as messed as usual. My trip was nice. Nice in a comfortable sort of way– like the smell of filter coffee in the morning (or a rolled joint on Sunday for somebody…) or floating in an enormous shirt that does not constrict your body parts… 🙂 It was a tad silly as well- like I never undertsood why two consenting adults need to hide what they feel like doing- and resort to a Tibetan Assembly or a Hotel corridor or patiently await everybody’s passage to the land of nod on a bus. I discovered scary truths- I can laugh only when doped, sleep only when buzzed sufficiently by alchohol and cry???…. yet to discover. Today is the day I collect ashes and put up a permanent symbol to rake my wounds everyday… Bring the whip down, its masochist time. Rejoice you are liberated.