Kumaon nostalgia - day 3

This morning I step outside as the sun’s earliest rays fall on the ridge. I walk up without a pause, out of breath and surrounded by the fresh smell of moist lantana. I stop atop the ridge, as the sun grows warmer, and survey the view: the Sattal Lake below, Nainital and the towers of Sem in the distance, the Sattal bungalows in between. I turn left to walk upwards to Kartik’s place, but the lantana has blocked off the trail - obviously no one else ever visits his secret place! I walk back to the ridge and on towards the temple tree. On my right is a little hidden glade (it strikes me that this would be a fine spot for a little yellow-curtained cottage with the bedroom facing east). 

I climb upward and the view on my left becomes more picturesque. There is something feral about how the hills make you feel. All sensation becomes physical: the tired muscles in my legs, the breathlessness in my chest, the sweat trickling down my back. At the top, I put down the binoculars and take off my sweater. The breeze cools my arms and blows my skirt around my calves. You silly temple tree, who needs to pray to you? What wish have I, which you can make come true? What happiness can I want beyond that I feel this moment? To think I ever felt incomplete! As I turn back, I feel as if the beauty of my surroundings has entered my being through my senses: through my eyes and ears and nose and mouth and skin. I know my experience is complete and this moment perfect, lacking nothing and embedded in me forever.