A Thank You Letter to My Trekking guide

For teaching me tons of life lessons in 5 hours of trekking

**Thatha in Tamil, my mother tongue, means grandfather. And it is common for us to call any older man Thatha.

Hi Thatha,

The first time I met you was when you were cleaning up the front of the resort. I had come out to look around and find a good quiet place to read my book when you looked up and smiled. A smile so pure, full of genuineness.

I asked you which would be the best place to sit and listen to nature, and you pointed out the perfect spot I could ever imagine. Away from everyone’s eyes, right next to the stream leading to the waterfall. The one hour I spent there was the most peaceful one in my life.

I didn’t know that you would be my trekking guide then. I didn’t know that I would spend 5 hours with you the next day, listening to your stories — of your granddaughter, son, and the place you’ve called home for 55 years.

Do you know why you stood out so much? Because you kept calling me ‘papa’ (child in Tamil). And made me feel so comfortable throughout the trek, teaching me valuable life lessons unknowingly. You treated me like family.

That’s the beauty of small-town people, I suppose.

As you walked us into the forest, your knowledge of every part of the humongous place astonished me. You knew most of the plants there, knew the sounds of animals, and were well-versed in the nitty-gritty's of nature. You taught me the life-cycle of a coffee bean, the appropriate environment the plants have to be in to thrive and to trust in nature.

When you shared that your wife still gets paid only 60% of men, I was shocked. I had stupidly assumed that the concept of equal pay would be prevalent, at least now in 2019.

When you recounted the hardships that you faced in life, how you brought up your family single-handed, and are still sponsoring your granddaughter's education, I respected you. You were 62, thatha, and you didn’t need to work so much then.

But still, you did. For that, you have my utmost respect.

Most importantly, you taught me that man controls everything, including the forests around us. Slowly it was becoming clear that the plants and trees existed only because humans had ‘allowed’ them to exist. Everything had a financial reason. Thick tree cover? It was because the cinnamon plants below them require shade. And so on…

I did get where you come from. Your life’s sustenance was based on these plantations. For you, food in your house meant more than climate change. I got that. What I did realize was the importance of educating you about it. I always assumed that people in the forests were closer to nature.

What I didn’t know was, capitalism had changed your pure souls too.

As we went on in the trek, it was getting clear that you had taken others on similar tours before. For you asked my husband and me whether you could click pictures of us periodically like a cliched tourist guide. I also remember teaching you to take photos with your small mobile camera, and you smiling when you clicked the first picture of us in there! It was damn cute!

You know what stunned me? Your stamina and strength. At the age of 62, you walked a 10 km trek with us, never once stopped to take a breather for yourself, and not once did I see you panting and puffing like I was! And with a pair of cheap slippers mind you, unlike us wearing “fancy” shoes as you mentioned.

You took so much care of us throughout the trek and never once made us feel like an outsider. As you kept walking and telling your life stories, my respect for you only grew multifold. While we had different opinions on things, because we were from different generations, I understood where you came from. And I knew that you cared. That’s all that mattered.

I will always be grateful to you, thatha, for showing me the other side of life. For imparting me with immense knowledge in that long 5 hours of my life.

I’ll always be grateful.

With love,

Papa

Originally published here