For Evermore

Priyadarshini Chanda

© Copyright 2021 by
Priyadarshini Chanda

Photo of mountains in India.

Being a member of middle class family and being cautious regarding financial stability at the end of every month, going to extensive trips was something rare for person like me. But after my fourteenth birthday for a birthday gift, my parents arranged a trip to the nearby mountains for three long days.

My experience even going with my family stayed completely personal as I found myself anchoring my life with scenery. An intrigued emotion swelled through my veins when I first discerned the mountains appeared beyond the mist, forest green color dancing behind. The tea gardens surrounded the horizons and our car caused an intensity of flying. The range of vision emerged crimson with composition of purple—gloom rose above the view.

Following five hours of vast journey, we approached our destination, the hotel we booked on the mountain top. From there—the sun could still be seen, the rays of yellow and cardinal mirrored on the mountain top as we drove above.

The elegance of nature, for the first time as I left my hometown, felt authentic. No compulsion hid to formulate the surroundings appear beautiful, it legitimately was heavenly. The leaves of tree revolved golden in the November days, falling like rain over the mountains. From the balcony of the mountain—the small town lit like small lanterns and the river Teesta flowed alongside the town. And in the mist of darkness I discerned the tranquility, my patience and approached my spirit many days later. As a teenager, never have I felt so placid that I drowned into the river of serenity.

But, the one affair that bemused me was the civilians—how lovely, how patience! No endless sound of horns and screaming—such patience moved my heart in a deeper level. The amount of admiration we attained from them, and they willingly gave. I somehow undergo with shame, perceiving their collectiveness towards everyone, the way they praised diversity was individually took a place in my heart.

It’s the people, they make surroundings so beautiful.

I forever attained a peculiar fear of being different, left alone, useless yet every heart is diverse, we merely thrive to be same to not to be laughed at. But, that place, I visited, shone like princess alongside our strained industrial city. How simplicity can be the most elegant thing if you merely learn to accept it. Nature and people, where I stayed for merely two nights accepted each other and caused a serene atmosphere, aiding thousands of people going through anxiety, misery and neurological problems.

When three days later I returned home, a leaf of love and acceptance fell inside me—the acceptance of diversity. Being polite, and the leaf never composed but widened a rage of humanity and equality inside me and my adolescent emotions.

A simple place, few simple people, and a contemporary experience can change someone’s heart forevermore.

I am a fifteen year old girl, who enjoy writing stories and poems and finding depth in every small affair. I have written a book named JOURNEY:IT IS YOUR STORY TOO, and this book isn’t traditionally published. So I guess I am eligible for this competition. I live in a small subdivision named Dinhata, a town of India.

This is my personal experience after going on my first long journey with my parents so this story holds a really close place in my heart. And I hope you like it too.

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