7 days that were meant to be days to acclimatise oneself to the weather, to the condition, before the race, became a vacation. Seven days spent taking in the sights and culture that the place had to offer, creating memories to be etched in the mind forever, like photographs hung on the walls of our soul, our mind, all culminating into one memorable run, one beautiful celebration of life, bringing friends closer, making bonds more than just about running. In short what was meant to be about acclimatising, became a Runncation.
But now that the race had been run it was time to return back home. It was time to return back to life we have left behind, the life we had forgotten while we lived in the laps of the mountains, enjoying its hospitality, enjoying its beauty. We saw monasteries and palaces and schools, drove on the highest motorable road, through mountain passes, been to valleys, seen a beautiful lake, some rode ATBs, some rode camels, some even went rafting, besides running a Half Marathon. But now it was time to return home.
As we sat in the cab that drove us to airport, we all knew that we all had memories that would stay with us forever, grateful for the bonding, grateful for each other’s company, knowing that we would not have this trip any other way.
The first leg of the journey back home had all of us together, all of us on the same flight that would take us to the capital of the country. We stood there wondering if we were in the right line, if our baggages, which were now filled with souvenirs that we would take back to our families and friends, hoping that it wasn’t overweight. And once the luggage had been checked-in, animatedly talking to one another over a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, a cup-a-noodles.
Reaching the capital we kind of dispersed to catch our respective flights. Though our destination was the same, our means to get there were different. But we hoped we could once again catch up at another airport and head home together, if possible, cause a bandh (the nth number called during the year) kind of threatened our journey home.
Now an airport transit almost cost mom and my flight. So as we waited and waited and I fumed and calculated, wondering if I should have taken another mode of transportation (as we had a pretty comfortable cushion when we landed). But waiting for that bus saw that window narrow, leaving us on tenter hooks to make our connection on time (god this sounds like pages right out of the script for the Amazing Race).
Finally the bus arrived and we got there in very nick of time, with the airline literally giving the final call. The second leg involved the mystery of the leaky plane, where the poor attendant tried in wain, to find from where the water leaked, finally settling the passengers in a different seat, but not before removing all the carry on luggage from the overhead bin and lining it tissue papers and then putting it all back but still unable to find that leak. A small amusement to distract yourself from the horror of a toothache that once again decided to haunt you.
Landing home it was a search to get a cab to take us home, and after cancelling almost three cabs (and being canceled too) finally found one, after waiting for almost over 30 minutes. So we finally made it back home, after being over seven days from it, back to the life we know, but with a heart and mind full of sweet memories, grateful to all who made the trip possible, who made the trip a memorable one.
No comments:
Post a Comment