The tigress of Annapurna

Pokhara is my city by multiple reasons and emotions but this particular experience was special for me because I interacted with a group of intelligent executives on the topic of contingency and causation, I met my wife after many months, I flew high up in the sky and realized how ugly we are down below, and I looked at the tigress of Annapurna and her melancholic contour. Look at the Fishtail and you can see the shape of the tigress face. Read about my experience to finally read the tale of the tigress. The symbolism of tigress face is ironic, and man and his constructs are!

You soar up in the sky, the land looks sublime. The closure you descend, the land reveals its ugliness. Not the land, but its men and women! Recently in Pokhara, I glided into the sky and saw how the land opened up its exquisite essence. The sky above and the world we live in! There is immense contradiction. You look around the world you live in then look up toward the night sky. Schopenhauer was never able to comprehend this difference between—so soon and so immediate—the cults and codes below and the infinite sky above.

The silent lake, the loaded fields, and the massive silver-mountains are phenomenal to see from up in the sky. I am not talking about seeing the landscape from an airplane widow, but seeing them almost with a bird’s eye view.

My sky gliding experience was an adventure of a young mind (oops, for my opponents!). I was able to view the landscape below with a better perspective: Open on a seat amidst roaring winds, pouncing hawks, and homeward birds. Some fear and some ecstasy, but certain relief after the descent! After all it still is Pokhara, one of the most beautiful cities in South Asia.

Think about gliding in the blue heaven above and creeping in Kathmandu streets below. Notice the sharp contrast. So beautiful and so ugly! I am not talking about the opposition but the immediacy of opposition. Jahnavi appa wrote why I am lamenting so soon on the ugliness of the land. Arun, do not carry the burden of the land below. What did you do up in the sky?

Praveen Gurung of Blue Heaven advised my wife and me to take flights with experienced pilots. He is a great smiling person. People do not smile these days and if you see one, make him your friend. He helped me find more people who smile, Ajay and Jammie, the pilots from Frontiers. I recall their names because people with hearty smiles are rare these days. Can you imagine about the joy of flying with these humble smiling faces?

Fishtail has a strange shape of a tigress. The face becomes prominent when the snow melts. She sits alone around the barren rocks, pondering over the loss, but when the thick snow coats the peak, she moves away in joy.

I happen to sit by the side of a well-known politician while going to Pokhara in an aeroplane. He was on the left. His associate asked me to change the seat, “he wishes to view Himal.” I readily agreed for his enthusiasm. He snored all his way, and across his hanging nose I could see the silvery mountains. Flying per se may not be beautiful. That is why I recall those people from the city of the lake.

Jahnavi appa does not like me drifting away from the blue heaven and writing about the snoring nose. She has promised to come to Pokhara only for gliding and to see how I saw the mountains, the stretch of water, and the loosening birds amidst some apprehension of imitating something alien to our being.

The earth below has not left its hue, and the water is profuse. But the whiteness on the peaks has fallen into abyss. Fishtail has a strange shape of a tigress. The face becomes prominent when the snow melts. She sits alone around the barren rocks, pondering over the loss, but when the thick snow coats the peak, she moves away in joy. These days she looks melancholic. I saw the mythical animal contour and reflected on us below.

How effective we are: We can tamper with the creatures of the myths. The more we mess about, the animal looks sad and lonely. The primordial beast moves only when she is happy. She disappears into the slopes when the mountain ranges are covered with snow. I am not happy when I see her. You are not supposed to see her. The contour on the peak is the curse of human intrusion. The cause and effect is not visible to sickening mind. The more she appears on the brow of the mountain, the man reveals his cruelty toward nature.

The snow thickens and the animal is happy in her den and that is why you do not see her. The symbolism is saddening these days. This is a tale of appearance and disappearance. The shortest tale about the tigress is caused by the longest effort of human interference. I flew high and I could see the disaster. Seeing the tigress from up in the sky was unfortunate. There is no respite in heaven or in hell!

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