You only realize the value of something when you do not have access to it anymore, whether it’s money, good health, or a good friend. For me, that something is the mountains. Growing up in Kathmandu, mountains always surround you from all sides. They greet you every morning, and if you’re an early riser, you may also spot the stunning snow-clad ranges twinkling in the morning sun. Mountains in Kathmandu are so common that you sometimes forget how beautiful they are. You treat them like a parent: you know they’re there, so you take them for granted. 

It was only after I moved to Delhi that I started to miss the mountains. Sure, living in a big city has its perks, but nothing to the charm of living in a valley under the shadow of majestic mountains. The cool mountain air rejuvenates you with every caress and fills your spirit with new energy and determination. It took me the scorching Delhi heat to appreciate the lovely weather of Kathmandu valley.

If you live in the heart of Kathmandu, you will feel a certain distance between you and the mountains. You may enjoy their shadow and protection but hardly share any great intimacy with them. There is a certain degree of aloofness in your relationship with the mountains, similar to a traditional father-child relationship. Traditionally, fathers provided for their children but were not very involved in their lives in the earlier days. The air of mystery they carried around is similar to the one that the distant mountains carry. So naturally, you look at them with awe, reverence, and a bit of fear and intimidation.

However, mountains also have a motherly side, which you only realize when you set foot on one. They nurture the mountain plants with their rich forest soil and feed the animals from their bosoms. The beautiful rhododendron blooming from the peaks of Nepal is a testimony of their tenderness.

Mountains in Kathmandu and all around the world have many striking qualities. But one feature that highly appeals to me is their universality. The hills here in Shimla, Masoorie, or Manali are very similar to those in Kathmandu. The winding roads, the deodar forests, the wild hill flowers, the chilly mountain breeze, and the wayside teashop, all remind me of the mountains back home. It is like visiting a distant relative in a land away from home- you feel connected somehow. 

I do not know the people who live in those mountains, nor do I understand their tongue. But the mountains speak to me. They beckon me often, and I answer their call once in a while. Because as Mr. Ruskin Bond says, “When there is mountain in your blood, there’s no escape.”