The Journey- The story of a man and a forest

My eyes fluttered half-open as the morning sunlight peeked over the hill and made its way through the thick bush of the lush green forest. The sound of the birds singing their morning song, in a somewhat irrational yet calmingly melodious tune, echoed softly under the canopy. I could not, however, locate the tuneful singer in the perplexing ecosystem of the forest, as if the conductor and his orchestra were scattered in an infinite mirror maze. The ground felt damp and soft, and little shoots growing from the soil tickled my skin. Today might be the day, I realized.

I lifted myself off the ground, leaned against the giant kapok tree, and stretched my muscles awake and to life, feeling a little sore in my back and yet positively energetic. I had a sip of water, collected my makeshift backpack, and set off, ensuring that the sun remains to my left. Chomping down on a couple of fruits I had foraged yesterday, I thought about the journey remaining ahead. After walking across the dense rainforest for the past 20-odd days, I hoped today I might reach the big, mighty ocean. With every step, my leather boots sank about a quarter of an inch deep into the mud, leaving a footprint marking my perilous journey. The sheer volume and size of the flora of this magnificent forest continued to amaze me till the end, ranging from tall trees reaching out to touch the sky, to relatively shorter bushes covering the ground. 100 feet above me, the late morning sun was already beating down and becoming severe, but luckily, I was protected from the above by layers and layers of thick green leaves, forming an everlasting shade. Every time the wind blew, the leaves brushed and bristled against each other ever so softly, and trees swayed ever so slightly from the top, and the cool breeze blew my hair off my forehead.

The petrichor emanating from the surroundings was accompanied by the typical smell of a forest, and with every sniff a part of me felt rejuvenated. Since there was no well-defined path, my path, albeit in the large picture was south, was filled with turns and hops and climbs; and the occasional sliding-down-the-hill endeavors. Although rocks and stone slabs provided a better, harder surface to walk on, I had to be extremely mindful of the moss-covered slime ones, on which one slip could be fatal. After walking for an hour or so, I began to sense repetitive fatigue set into my muscles, so I decided to take a short stop. Due to the fact that I was walking at a monotonous pace across the glorious forest, every time I stopped, the world felt as if it was supposed to shift forward, but then chose not to. As I looked around, I noticed that there was not a single patch of soil which did not have any sort of plantation on it. Green seemed to be peeking out of every corner, from underneath rocks to the bases of large trees. Nature was everywhere. Life was everywhere.

Upon bending down, I noticed a line of black ants originating from a rotting log on the ground, and ending at a hole about 2 metres away from the log. They were marching along in an almost impeccable formation and at a surprisingly high speed, carrying miniscule bits and pieces of something, which I could not make out. They looked like an absolutely well-trained parade, with each soldier following commands to the dot. Soldiers of this army kept on walking towards their destination, and that’s when I realized that I should do the same. And then it happened.

The weather started to go from sunny and bright to dark and gloomy, and the wind shifted from a calm breeze to a strong gust. I immediately got to work at a makeshift umbrella, using some materials which I could find off the land and some which I had carried with me. I saw a branch of perfect size, about as thick as my wrist, which would serve as the pole of my umbrella. The problem was that it was at 8 feet in the air and difficult to break off the tree. I jumped, grabbed the branch with both my hands, hanging off the bent and tilting — but much to my dismay, not broken — branch. I started moving away from the trunk of the tree further down the branch, dragging my hands like a funnily unskilled ape, hoping this could do it. After an obvious realization that it didn’t, I started swinging on the branch like a gymnast, using my weight to generate momentum and apply a greater force. I did not, however, see the downside to this technique. When the cracking sound of the branch tearing away from the trunk reached my ears, I was elated, and then the branch swung forward, dragging me with it to an anti-climactic fall on the muddy ground. I, however, had no time to acknowledge my pain as the first drop of cold rain penetrated the thick canopy above and landed on my forearm. I used a large rock to break the branch into a suitable size using the reliable method of throwing the rock on the branch, and then began to collect leaves. I was looking for big, thick leaves, and I found a plant that would do the job. I then used a bunch of smaller twigs, which were relatively easier to find, along with the hanging roots that I had collected to use as ropes a few days ago, to tie the leaves and twigs around the top of the branch. This was in no manner perfect, but would have to do.

Then, with the sky getting more and more grey by the minute, I used my compass to ensure I was going in the right direction. The rain became heavier, and walking became even more difficult. Branches were swinging, the soil was getting wetter, the visibility was reduced, and the sound of raindrops banging against the leaves became a constant. Every once in a while, the howling wind would toss a leaf in my face, and then, one by one, took the leaves of my umbrella with it. At this point I gave up my efforts of trying to remain dry, and found myself rather enjoying the first few minutes of the rain. But as it persisted, I felt cold, and my pace reduced further. I could feel water droplets slowing inching their way down my back, leaving a tingling sensation. I constantly kept blowing off water collecting on the top of my upper lip, and wrapped my hands around my body to keep warm. After a while, the rain died down a little, and left the green plants a little greener, fresh air a little fresher and the moist air a little moister.

After a while, I heard a soft, inviting sound. A tranquil, calming sound. It was the sound of flowing water, a lake, a river, or perhaps even a waterfall. With much joy and elation, I jogged towards the origin of the sound, and after a few minutes I reached what turned out to be a river. It was a large river with an intimidatingly strong current, refueled in its might by the rain. A cold fog set over the far side of the river, looming and hovering over the water. I took off my boots, stepping onto the soft mud, and walked towards the river. Standing on the bank of this marvelous water body, I dug my toes into the cool, damp, soil and enjoyed the peacefulness in its motion. I leaned and stuck the tip of my fingers into the chilly water, and felt the flow. The large rocks protruding from the surface of the water in the middle of the river stood tall and tough against the strong current; an immovable object against an irresistible force. The wind had a piercing, biting quality to it as I prepared to continue moving ahead.

Walking along the banks of the river was much easier than through the thick undergrowth, but the sheer longevity of the journey and the stamina required to complete it was a herculean task. The calf muscles at the back of my legs began to ache, along with the grinding pain in my ankles every time I took a step on a rock or a hard surface. I felt tired and as if every breath was escaping me, with the destination nowhere in sight, it was tempting to give up for the day. Nevertheless, there were still a couple hours of daylight left, and I intended to use them to my complete advantage. I continued to push ahead, and walking became even more difficult as the evening began to set in and the humidity increased.

However, I did find a coconut tree which was ready to pick, and after 15 minutes and 2 coconuts, I felt refreshed once again. And then, to pile on the good news, I finally saw the end of the everlasting tropical tree line.

The ocean.

Jubilation, exhilaration, and a sense of triumph were what I felt when I caught a peek at the line joining the sea and the sky, the horizon. I had made it. The water, although the same water that was in the river and the rain, seemed much more inviting. I wasn’t sure whether it was the coconuts that refueled me or the idea of a swim in the ocean, but my pace increased. Before I knew it, I was at the beach. The sand was bitingly cold, but that no longer affected me. The sheer might of the breathtaking ocean commanded as far as the eye could see, with waves aimlessly crashing all along the shore, only to be followed by another set of wandering waves. I could no longer resist the urge, so I put down my stuff and ran with open arms into the ocean. The current may have been warm, or it may have been the heat of excitement within of completing this majestic journey. In that very moment, swimming in the ocean, the profound realization of the meaning of life, its ties with nature, and my insignificance in comparison, all struck me together. This was it. The end of a splendid journey, and the beginning of a new one, perhaps even more challenging.