The thing about the Himalayan sun is that you wouldn’t feel content only when you see it. You have to feel it to be warm and cosy. That is how all experiences are. Seeing is one but going through it yourself and feeling it in your skin, blood, thoughts, veins is the real experience. It is a level apart. And somehow today the Himalayan sun has turned from just a star, a part of science textbook, a magnificent thing in our world, to an experience running through all layers of my skin. And the thing with experiences is that sometimes it brings on a lot more than what you bargained for.
As it sets today,- No not behind a mountain or the ocean, it has just moved away to the side to an angle where it no longer falls on the place I sit- I start to feel cold. My body resigns to the weakness I felt last night, one that I had been feeling these past few weeks. Initially, I attributed it to the food but could it be something else? Could it be that my body needs the sun to live off? Not just that the sun exists but is it the very much alive rays of the sun, The Himalayan sun to be precise.
The point of settling down in one place is building certain habits according to that. My mind is set for a city, one with pleasant weather, with the sun often out and the breeze alright. This is how I had grown and envisioned and adapted to nature around me. But the Himalayan sun by the river Ganges is different. As it leaves, the nights take over as though they were waiting for the mighty to finish its ritual. The winds are not kind. They remind me of the thieves who wait until the city guard finishes the shift to get on with their duties. Slowly and patiently waiting.
The Himalayan sun is now gone. The winds set the chillness. And I feel a sense of fright. A sense that I will no longer have the rays to keep me alive and that I would perish without the rays and that the night and the cold winds would consume me one cell after the other. From then on, it was just a wait. A wait for me to see how I would survive the cold night with the winds whooshing around. A wait that I would have to see what surprise unfolds every next minute and this until the Himalayan sun comes out again, 7 hours later. A hope that we will all live until then.