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| Hemant Gahlot |
Lessons from the wood
After an arduous day in the jungle, hectically running around in search of a good kill, disappointment clung to me like a second skin. The moment I reached the campsite, frustration surged through me, and I grabbed the axe lying idle in one corner and hurled it into a log laid outside the tent. It made a loud thud and that brought a strange sense of relief.
Dropping into the chair nearby, I let the silence of the jungle surround me. Brooding, I mentally scribbled on the canvas of my thoughts, making notes of what I’d do once this long, free weekend finally ended. The sun was sinking, its warmth still brushing against my face. I remembered the cloth hood fastened to the back of the chair. Pulling it over my head, I tried to shield myself from both the heat and my own discontent.
Just then, Eesha emerged from the woods, her hair askew, her airgun slung lazily over her shoulder. She was carrying nothing—not that I had much better luck. Behind her, Jatin appeared, dragging a bundle of dry wood with a proud grin.
“Not exactly dinner,” Jatin said meekly. He dropped the bundle beside the fire pit, “but at least we’ll have warmth.”
Eesha raised her brows at me. “You look like you lost a battle with your own thoughts.”
I laughed bitterly. “I was hoping today would be different. Instead, it’s just… wasted effort.”
Eesha crouched near the fire pit, striking flint to spark a flame. As the yellow flames began to rise slowly but steadily, she went into the tent. She made herself presentable, put on a cheerful smile and returned to my chair. She took up the airgun standing by the side of the chair and began dribbling the muzzle between her fingers. “It’s not wasted,” she said softly. “We came here to breathe, to step away from the noise of the world. Food will come, eventually. But warmth, stories, and company? The hills, the dales and the brooks and the squirrels chattering around the branches of the trees? All that’s already here.”
Jatin plopped onto the ground beside my chair and smirked. “Besides, my friend, you had a quiet time spent on the preparation of the dream-project that has been haunting you for so long. It was a terrific camping site. Just cheer up and see what the evening has brought for us! A tryst with the crimson sunset along with a fragrant, soothing breeze. As far as the dinner is concerned, nothing tastes quite like roasted roots and some wild fruits, eaten with a burst of laughter.”
I couldn’t help but smile. The heavy clouds in my chest began lifting up, slowly. They both were right. Perhaps the day had not given us the kill we wanted, but it had given us each other, this fleeting moment of foolishness and firelight.
As the flames finally caught, the three of us drew closer to the crackling warmth, sharing tales of old misadventures, each story ending in laughter loud enough to echo among the trees. While this continued, the roasted roots and wild fruits provided additional fervour and tastes that satiated the palette. The night darkened and we shifted to our respective coteries for peaceful slumber and sweet dreams.
That night, I realized—the jungle may not have fed our bodies as we wished, but it had fed our hearts and elated our spirits. The turmoil of the day – both physical as well as mental, finally evaporated and soothing sleep overtook us all. I thanked lord almighty for this wonderful experience and slid into the caresses of the princes sleep – grateful and peaceful.
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