Nepal: 50 Shades of Gray
I held half-read The Immortals of Meluha in my hand as I was flying over the majestic Himalayas on my flight to Kathmandu, mouth gaping at the beauty bestowed upon the peaks and valleys all painted in 50 shades of Gray, as alluring as the protagonist from the said book itself. Laden with ample dose of snow, the peaks jutted out well above the clouds, soaking in the vitalising rays of sun, totally disinterested with the foggy conditions on the ground. I thought about the mystical abode of Shiva just beyond those mountains and said a silent prayer in my mind to the soft-hearted, dancer incomparable, god of destruction, while I looked on. My thoughts wandered to Tintin in Tibet and a tiny hope simmered in my heart to meet the Bigfoot, although I knew I was going to trek well below the boundaries of the mysterious Yeti. As I stepped out of the airport, the chill of a January evening was instantly replaced by the warmth of the Nepali people. The traditional greeting of putting a marig...