The walk back

Today we begin our descent. The skies are clear, a deeper shade of blue than I have seen before. I am not tired, I have no bruises or aches. Did the dip into the lake do something I wonder. I am ready to run down, but the colours stop me. I pick up the camera time and again. S has a mild pain on her knee and it's a good idea when she takes a mule to step down.

The trip is coming to a close, and it's then that we get to know some of our companions a little better. We make up for our late start to reach well ahead of time. Our journey by bus begins. By noon the next day we plan to return to Rishikesh with a halt for the night as close to it as possible. The hillsides are streaked with landslides. There are rocks jutting over our heads with drop of water (little waterfalls) trickling down. It is a matter of time before they come down and crush a passing vehicle. Portions of the road have dissolved and a crane has cleared a path barely wide enough to let one vehicle pass. The valley below is deep and often the tyres are inches from the edge.

We pass a village when the sunlight is sheer magic. It is a deep shade of gold and the beautiful landscape is transformed. The steps of crops on the hillsides are alive, the flowing robes, of both men and women are aglow, edges of their hair, their beards catch the light as they blow in the wind, the hay they carry on their heads, the logs on their shoulders, the bunches of leaves, all play with this light. It is here that I like the dust that swirls around. There is so much to capture, and even more to experience. I sit and stare, my eyes wide.

We cross the slopes to reach a small town called Nagrasa and find a hotel at a beautiful spot on the valley. In the night we huddle on the roof around the glow of a candle. There are storytellers among us, but I am sleepy. After the sensible portrait sessions over a few days taken by our photographer with two cameras, I decide to do shaky head portraits.