A JOURNEY OF ENLIGHTENMENT

The driver pulled the brake suddenly, jolting Vishal out of his sleep. Irritated, he opened his half-closed eyes somnolently to find out why the car had stopped when he noticed an elderly, frail man clad in a white dhoti–kurta walking toward them.

- SREELEKHA CHATTERJEE

He had an unshaven, oily face; his pale, bald shinning with a few rows of thin hair strands at the sides, above his ears.

“Shambhuji!” The driver welcomed him.

Shambhu greeted Vishal jovially, who tried to squeeze in a smile but probably failed to hide his displeasure.

“I’m your guide. I visit Shrikhand Peak every year. It’s so nice to see young men like you interested in spiritualism.” Shambhu began volubly with excitement, taking the seat next to Vishal, popping a paan (betel leaf) in his mouth.

Disgusted, Vishal averted his face from his co-passenger and looked out the window. Spiritualism is the least interesting to him. He wouldn’t have visited any shrine in his life if his father’s friend Rupesh didn’t inform him about his father’s last wish. He wanted Vishal to embark on the high-altitude Shrikhand Mahadev pilgrimage at least once in his lifetime. The Shivling is situated in the Kullu district of Himachal Pradesh and attracts swarms of Hindu pilgrims every year.

Vishal’s religious wife had added that Lord Shiva predestinated it. Being an atheist, he believed everything was created by human beings and praying to gods was a whopping lie, a wearisome intemperance, a reason to comfort the troubled souls of worshipers along with someone to blame when things didn’t go the way they wanted.

He missed his father a lot, and thought that this pilgrimage would make him happy. Probably, he’d see him from wherever he was and be satisfied about it.

Shambhu and Vishal passed through the beautiful picturesque regions of Shimla and arrived at a hotel in Rampur late in the evening.