I’m up in the clouds now. Literally. Yesterday I moved from the family guesthouse where I’ve been holed up these last three weeks in Lakeside Pokhara, up to the heights of Sarankgot, which, during these months of heavy monsoon, spends much of its time wreathed in a dense cloud cover. After a night of heavy rain, now becoming the standard in these parts, the clouds are starting to break a little, affording tantalising glimpses of the rolling mountainscapes beyond them. Way down in the valley is Phewa Lake and the distant city of Pokhara itself spreads out like some petri dish fungal culture around it. The mighty statue of Shiva that used to dominate the skyline from Greenhills is now distant and indistinct. My one time plan to visit it in the end never transpired. But no matter. If you don’t find what Shiva symbolises in you, as well as everywhere around you, a mere statue personifying it is unlikely to help.
Yesterday afternoon I had my first glimpse of the Annapurna range, quite unexpectedly. I had fully expected to have to wait days, but there, as the clouds briefly dissipated, the giant awesome snow glad peaks emerged dreamlike through the mists.. As I stood gazing at them, and let my eyes sweep the immensity of sky and landscape all about, I felt that strange indescribable feeling of a connection to that higher something last experienced at Gangotri and Kedarnath. The vision engaged with something inside me which felt both intensely sweet yet also painful, in that strange way I have felt sometimes whenever I connect with the Numen, producing a strange intense emotion.
