In May, a friend and I traveled to the Indian Himalayas. We stayed in a small village called Harsil, through which the Bhagirathi River flows. As the river descends from high in the mountains, it eventually joins with the Alaknanda, becoming the Ganges. It’s a remote area with only one main road in and out, a road that by our standards would be considered a single-lane road. It’s heavily traveled by busloads of pilgrims headed to Gangotri, to visit holy sites, including the glacier where the Ganges originates. During that time, my friend made a trek to Gaumukh and higher into the mountains, while I stayed in Harsil to explore local trails and sites. I had a wonderful guide who showed me around and gave me lots of tips for how to hike at higher altitudes. When my friend returned from her trek, the three of us spent a day hiking through a forested area not far from a small village called Dharali. It was the place where we discovered a small school along the trail that I wrote about previously.
Yesterday I received a message from my guide that Dharali had been destroyed by a flash flood in a matter of minutes. Homes, the market area, apple orchards, and roads were all destroyed. He was asking for financial assistance to help the people there, some of whom are his relatives. I remember thinking when we were there that if we’d had to evacuate for any reason, it would be a challenging procedure. It’s a fragile area with complex problems. A lot of people have lost their homes and livelihoods. I feel blessed to have been able to travel there, and my heart goes out to these people who were so kind and welcoming to us. I wonder about the school, if it’s still there, and if the children in attendance are safe. In the coming days I hope to find a way to offer assistance.
The timing of this news was interesting. I was planning to write my blog about being joyful in the midst of deep suffering in the world. During a recent conversation, someone said she’d felt happy about an experience, but also felt guilty for her joy at a time when suffering is pervasive. We talked about the importance of remaining joyful as a way of holding onto hope for better times. A poem by Jack Gilbert was shared that beautifully expressed this idea. Here’s an excerpt:
“If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction, we lessen the importance of their deprivation. We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure, but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world.”
When I think about my days in the Himalayas, my heart is filled with happy memories. That joy gives me inspiration to keep going, to face hard challenges, and to have faith that everything changes. All that is difficult, disturbing, painful, or frightening will eventually pass. When we experience delight it balances out the hard times. I am hoping the people in the Himalayas who brought me such joy will have the support and courage needed to get through the aftermath of this tragic event. I will hold hope and light in my heart that they, too, will know joy again.