seemed not quite himself.
A breeze descended on us as we sat in silence beneath the canopy of green. Mani continued to breathe cautiously while I stared blankly in the direction from which we had come and shivered. I was surprised to see how high we’d already climbed.
‘I sometimes worry.’ Mani’s voice broke the silence.
‘What about?’ I replied.
‘I think maybe I am unlucky,’ he continued. That word again. ‘When I am younger I have parents and sister. And sister, she has children too, I am uncle as well.’ His voice wavered. ‘Now all I have is sister’s children, all the rest dead, they are all deaded.’
I was shocked. This had come out of nowhere. I remained silent to see if he had anything more to say, and when he hadn’t I responded inadequately, ‘That’s terrible, all of them?’
‘All of them!’ The breeze seemed all that bit chillier as Mani spoke. ‘First my parents, then my sister and then her husband. Now Mani give money for children so they not deaded too!’
This time Mani didn’t try to mask his sadness with laughter. ‘I think maybe I am unlucky!’ His eyes welled up slightly as he rose to his feet. ‘I think maybe I am very unlucky.’
There was nothing that I could say, it was too tragic a story that he had confided in me.
Mani seemed intent on starting off again; perhaps it was a useful distraction for him. Still, I was concerned.
‘Are you sure you’re ready to continue, Mani?’ I watched him reaching for the backpack.
‘No problem,’ he patted his stomach optimistically, ‘I think maybe just need dal bhat!’
He set off again and I followed closely behind.
Above the claustrophobic confines of the forest we came to a grassy clearing. ‘We are up very high now,’ explained Mani as he directed me to look over my shoulder. I turned around.
‘My God, that is beautiful!’ I scrambled for my camera. ‘Do you see how amazing that looks?’
It was more than just open space; it was the scene of a lifetime. In every direction, the wonder and beauty of Nepal lay exposed, on show. I aimed my lens and snapped repeatedly. I couldn’t control myself, it was like standing in a castle overlooking the world. Below was an artist’s dream, each forest, each terraced patch of farmland, each snowcapped mountainside adding its own distinct hue. The wispy grey arms of a gentle mist only accentuated the beauty they tried to conceal.Greatest of all were the towering protectors whose haunting forms tore patches from the blue morning sky: the Annapurna Mountains. As though they’d been watching us all along, they filled the sky behind with their enormous snow-capped presence, so massive yet still so far away.
Mani began to name the various peaks that were in view, leaving until last the Annapurna South peak whose base camp we were aiming to reach. For the minutes that we stood there taking everything in, I felt the most uplifted I’d been since as far back as I could remember.
I thought of home and the past. Just images. My mother’s eyes first, honest and kind, ever hopeful; often she would look at me with those eyes as though she knew every thought that entered my head, and she’d make me feel safe.
I saw Dad’s hands, coarse from a life on construction sites around the world, strong enough to keep on going, never to quit. Finally my brothers and sister, and the sounds of their youthful voices came to my ear, now long changed since the days when we played together, in the age before worries and disappointment. I pictured Sam, youngest of us all, and felt sad, knowing I hadn’t spent enough time withhim. He was a great brother, a gentle and unassuming guy now, who generally kept to himself. Even as kids he’d spent more time alone than he had with the rest of us.
I’ll make a point of getting closer to him when I get home, I thought. Whenever I get home!
‘You see,’ said Mani, pointing down into the distance, ‘there is Ghorepani!’
At least 400 metres below
A breeze descended on us as we sat in silence beneath the canopy of green. Mani continued to breathe cautiously while I stared blankly in the direction from which we had come and shivered. I was surprised to see how high we’d already climbed.
‘I sometimes worry.’ Mani’s voice broke the silence.
‘What about?’ I replied.
‘I think maybe I am unlucky,’ he continued. That word again. ‘When I am younger I have parents and sister. And sister, she has children too, I am uncle as well.’ His voice wavered. ‘Now all I have is sister’s children, all the rest dead, they are all deaded.’
I was shocked. This had come out of nowhere. I remained silent to see if he had anything more to say, and when he hadn’t I responded inadequately, ‘That’s terrible, all of them?’
‘All of them!’ The breeze seemed all that bit chillier as Mani spoke. ‘First my parents, then my sister and then her husband. Now Mani give money for children so they not deaded too!’
This time Mani didn’t try to mask his sadness with laughter. ‘I think maybe I am unlucky!’ His eyes welled up slightly as he rose to his feet. ‘I think maybe I am very unlucky.’
There was nothing that I could say, it was too tragic a story that he had confided in me.
Mani seemed intent on starting off again; perhaps it was a useful distraction for him. Still, I was concerned.
‘Are you sure you’re ready to continue, Mani?’ I watched him reaching for the backpack.
‘No problem,’ he patted his stomach optimistically, ‘I think maybe just need dal bhat!’
He set off again and I followed closely behind.
Above the claustrophobic confines of the forest we came to a grassy clearing. ‘We are up very high now,’ explained Mani as he directed me to look over my shoulder. I turned around.
‘My God, that is beautiful!’ I scrambled for my camera. ‘Do you see how amazing that looks?’
It was more than just open space; it was the scene of a lifetime. In every direction, the wonder and beauty of Nepal lay exposed, on show. I aimed my lens and snapped repeatedly. I couldn’t control myself, it was like standing in a castle overlooking the world. Below was an artist’s dream, each forest, each terraced patch of farmland, each snowcapped mountainside adding its own distinct hue. The wispy grey arms of a gentle mist only accentuated the beauty they tried to conceal.Greatest of all were the towering protectors whose haunting forms tore patches from the blue morning sky: the Annapurna Mountains. As though they’d been watching us all along, they filled the sky behind with their enormous snow-capped presence, so massive yet still so far away.
Mani began to name the various peaks that were in view, leaving until last the Annapurna South peak whose base camp we were aiming to reach. For the minutes that we stood there taking everything in, I felt the most uplifted I’d been since as far back as I could remember.
I thought of home and the past. Just images. My mother’s eyes first, honest and kind, ever hopeful; often she would look at me with those eyes as though she knew every thought that entered my head, and she’d make me feel safe.
I saw Dad’s hands, coarse from a life on construction sites around the world, strong enough to keep on going, never to quit. Finally my brothers and sister, and the sounds of their youthful voices came to my ear, now long changed since the days when we played together, in the age before worries and disappointment. I pictured Sam, youngest of us all, and felt sad, knowing I hadn’t spent enough time withhim. He was a great brother, a gentle and unassuming guy now, who generally kept to himself. Even as kids he’d spent more time alone than he had with the rest of us.
I’ll make a point of getting closer to him when I get home, I thought. Whenever I get home!
‘You see,’ said Mani, pointing down into the distance, ‘there is Ghorepani!’
At least 400 metres below
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