Hello wilderness, our old friend

A group of women travellers seek forest spirits and a secret waterfall at Bir

Mystical reverie Walk along taking in sights and sounds of the forest area

“Do you believe in forest spirits?” she asks, whirling around to eyeball me. “Yes, I do” I hear myself say calmly. She nods her approval and we walk on, she leading the way.

Smoke spirals dance into the forest air from the bunch of incense sticks she swirls around, and I long to feel one with the ‘spirits’ as she seems to. Tangibly yet subtly — like smoke with air.

Unified by impulsiveness

Everything around seems to suggest that the sceptic in me go take a hike. Which is what we set out to do that morning, me and these six girls I’d met in Bir a few days ago. Unified by impulsiveness, we are sure of finding the waterfall hidden in the upper reaches of this hill skirting the village.

An idea that seems less and less bright the deeper we climb into that endless maze of unmarked trails. Seven girls heading into a remote corner of nowhere, not knowing what or who we may run into. No SOS call, no Plan B, not even that fiery old companion from school days — pepper spray. And fast-slipping daylight hours under that tangle of canopies. Only one of us knows the way and she is now blithely lighting and swirling incense at every turn.

As the eldest of the lot — the youngest being 14 — I feel the weight of responsibility and regret skipping the safety measures I usually employ as a woman travelling in India or anywhere for that matter. The reckless girl in me has gotten the better of the pragmatic woman I often try to be. A recklessness echoed by my six companions. Raucous laughter over ridiculous non-jokes, cautions over missteps and slippery rocks, and random head-counts fly back and forth throughout.

Given the limited daylight left, we stop only for absolutely legit reasons — such as screaming names into the valley, posing for goofy pictures, tossing my 500ml water bottle around — shared inexplicably between seven thirsty hikers.

The steep climb gives way to mossy rocks and the occasional mountain goat. Over boulders dotting streams, we haul each other with an agility we didn’t know we had. Negotiating those thorny bushes, twisted trees, wide streams and smooth boulders isn’t a job for the logical brain. My hands and feet instinctively know where to land, with how much pressure, and what to grasp. ‘Listen to your body’ — my yoga line seems more apt here than it has on any indoor flat surface.

“Here, hold this!” she orders as she suddenly hands me the incense sticks and runs down to check on the others. It was reassuring to see that our guide did have one foot in this world after all. And a quick foot at that, gone before I could blink. I stand there wrapped by the wilderness and that feeling of being alone in the wild, which makes the company of trees feel like a long overdue reunion. Not quite sure what to do with the sticks burning shorter and shorter in the grip of my sweaty palm, I wave them around the trees.

Raw beauty

My little mystical reverie is broken by the footsteps and chatter of my new-found girl gang. The roar of the waterfall is soon within ear shot. Loud enough to seem only a hop, skip and jump away.

Except the hopping, skipping and jumping is to be over some broader streams with colder water, more massive boulders, and deceptively slippery stones piled up in the impossible way that only Nature can pull off. Until we finally meet our destination.

Nature in its raw beauty renders most people speechless, but not us. The shrillest of screams that normally greet ghosts in horror movies, now greet the raw beauty of water thrashing down the rocks and rushing into a stream. The next hour is a mad melée — clambering to the top of the waterfall, and getting in and out of clothes and water in no particular order. Not a soul around to diminish or control or impede us while we seize the day.

Many chattering teeth, freezing bones and drenched clothes later we begin our descent back to the village. Half-exhausted, half-electrified and completely grateful for the experience of absolute abandon this day had been for us. Looking back a year later, I realise our destination all along hadn’t been the waterfall — but our total celebration of it, and more importantly, ourselves.

Those roaring waters had mirrored that. I don’t know about forest spirits, but I definitely believe in the spirits of wild young women everywhere.