Slithering between nature’s
beautifully sculpted mountains on coffee-colored plateaus. The afternoon hot
air was followed. Each rock was like artist’s private property who had chiseled
imagination into a masterpiece. After a steady ascent for about 40 minutes, a group
of wide-eyed and supremely excited fellas welcomed us with open arms. The
mountain monkeys.
“Homely hotel”, “Luxury
hotel”, “Peaceful hotel”. These guys advertised their differentiation bang on.
I was looking for one that said “Mount Abu Hotel” but none had that USP, so I settled
for luxury presuming peace would come free. Maybe English was the problem. Why
else would there be a restaurant with a footwear shop board or even a library welcome
post over an abandoned plot. Shooting point became sitting point and sightseeing
became sight seen. Maybe they were just thinking ahead.
A charismatic albeit antiquated
hill station, Mount Abu was crowded, colourful and chilly. Amongst the loud
cacophony of bazaar noises, I immersed myself in everything the streets had to
offer. Fruits were sold by the dish, handsome horses were parked next to the
parks, and yard carts, advertised as Mercedes, were available for a ride. And
even those gave right of way to the cows.
It’s only when you
reach your start point back within an hour that you realize just how small the
world can be.
The waiting line for
our dinner was like waiting for the lottery announcement. If you were the chosen
one, those gestures of achievement were priceless to witness: fist air-hammering,
voices shrieking, and the most legendary of all, a victorious “YESSS” of the
person whose name was called. Food makes people go crazy.
Every now and then,
there’d be folks in obscure, lush corners of the town inhaling nature in its
purest form and pretend as if meditating when we’d pass by. Maybe that’s why
there were no signs of “Beware of pickpockets”. These guys already had their
hands full.
But damn, were the
people nice! Maybe because they were always high…geographically. I mean the
hotel manager apologized for something that wasn’t his fault, a store owner
chased us down the street because I paid and forgot to take my shoes, and a tea
guy who didn’t have change for 500 put it on the house. I mean if weed does
that to people, then screw education, India should make way for cannabis FDI.
And while leaving the
mount, I swear I saw a monkey wave back at me. I think the monkey was high.
Because that’s the
only explanation.