A version of this story was published in a travel magazine four years ago.
No one warned me that the hills can be an addiction impossible to get rid of.
Many years ago, over a long walk in search of grassy meadows and windy peaks high on the hills of the Brahmagiri Ranges, I sweated profusely and dragged my tired legs through the steep slopes that took me past thickly wooded surroundings. With a shoulder tired of a heavy backpack and legs worn out by the trying slopes, I wasn’t exactly in an ebullient mood half way up the journey. I coaxed my uncooperative body to keep going, cursing the hills at the same time for being so steep and testing to its visitors.
Emerging out of the treeline hours later, I was suddenly standing at the edge of a vast stretch of lush grass hugging the undulating slopes, which slowly faded and merged into the hazy sky. The addiction to the hills kicked in that precise moment and has refused to subside ever since. In the years that followed, I tramped up and down these hills as if overpowered by an enchantment that demands me to pay a homage to the slopes at intervals growing more regular every year. click to read more »