How I Healed My Broken Heart

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My story like every heart break story is cliqued with bombastic grief, ridiculous heartbreak, heightened emotion and finally an exaggerated self-discovery. But it is what it is. It is my life’s story where I felt that my heartbreak was the biggest tragedy that could hit this world. Bigger than a beggar’s hungry stomach and bigger than a dying man’s unfulfilled wishes. Four years into a committed relationship, my boyfriend and I had the same fate as most college loves do. What followed was shitloads of drama from my side and ruthlessness from his. From shouting on to each other and blaming each other for things that didn’t matter; I, ruining my studies and work; to skipping food for days consecutively; badmouthing my ex although he suffered equally: I did it all. All this continued for a few months and beyond a point it got so maddening that I thought I’ll drop out of my studies because I felt no motivation to carry on with my life. Love or loving life, were a far-fetched dream and to bare it all in this article, I did have the darkest thoughts of giving up on my existence at that time.

On one such day of insanity, when talking to someone felt imperative but I also knew that most my friends were already sick of my constant break up lamenting, I downloaded this application, Tinder. Now, that I’ve mentioned a company’s name, my story may seem like an extended advertisement but it’s far from that, it’s just an earnest memoir. So, I right swiped a few men and one of them, named Ray, lived two kilometers away and he messaged instantly. I got to know that he lived in the same building as my friend, Ishie and they were friends. To take my mind off, I talked and joked about myriad things and thankfully he had a brilliant sense of humor. The night passed talking about politics and different cuisines that we both enjoyed.

We continued talking for a week and not even once did the conversation turn creepy or indecent. Ray seemed like a wonderful guy who gave me my space and never tried to intrude on my privacy. Shortly thereafter, he spoke to Ishie and invited us to his place for dinner. Had this invitation been a solo one, I would never have considered it but he had graciously made sure that I’m comfortable with a friend around and so I went to dine at this almost stranger’s place.

On such occasions, usually a round of drinks are followed by tipsy talks over dinner.

I had come famished to their place and was wondering if I’ll have to quell my hunger for the next few hours while they booze around. But then unapologetically, when they were about to begin their first round of drinks, I said, “Hey, is there anything to eat? I’m a bit hungry.”

Expecting an eye roll and a disinterested denial, I kept my head low, faintly trying to gauge the reaction on Ray’s face. His eyes lit up and he said, “Sure! What do you want to eat? Shall I make you a parantha?”

All my sullen attitude and feeling of estrangement went out of the window at that question and I beamed a full smile at him, signalling a “Yes, please!”

So while I hopped around happy after my stomach was full, Ray, his roommate, and Ishie had their round of drinks. After a few hours when his roommate retired to his room and Ishie passed out, we sat and talked for nearly three hours. In those three hours, I told him tit bits of my story, how I’m nursing my broken heart and why I was on Tinder the night I spoke to him first. From his side, he spoke of the adventure trips that he planned to take and asked me to accompany him for one.

“Spiti Valley, it’s beautiful, why don’t you come for it with us?”

Thinking it’s just a polite question and not a serious one, I smiled and said “Sure, I will,” without thinking twice about what was about to happen.

I came back home the following morning, texted him a thank you note and forgot all about the night. A few months passed and I immersed myself back to the grief of my ex who kept coming and going from my life. I again went crazy trying to make the broken shards whole again. It seemed like a never ending loop to me and I did think that it’ll be my ruin. I would end up sabotaging my health, career and everything else to make a dysfunctional relationship work.

Another terribly lonely night came and dark thoughts, as always on such nights, loomed large. I could see neither my future nor happiness anywhere possible. Home seemed like the most dreary place to be in, parents seemed like unsympathetic jailers and career like a Sisyphean rock which kept pulling me down.

I was involuntarily staring at my phone screen expecting a message from my ex, when Ray texted, after a whole month and the message read “Hey! Spiti is on, right?”

What I had expected to be a polite question was a genuine offer and now the ball was in my court. I had a lot of considerations to make. This trip was in a fortnight’s time, with two barely known men, on a bike and that too to one of the toughest terrains in India. Was I prepared for it and would my friends or family approve?

A single woman here in India, I’d be maligned for being too forward just in case things turned south. Then there was this lurking fear about the integrity of men I had to go out with. The ongoing news and general culture breeds so much of mistrust that I could almost imagine myself being harassed by either of these two men.

After gulping a glass of water, I dismissed most of my fears as hypothetical and understood that there was nothing really hindering me from going on this trip. I had read all the feminism in my classrooms and it was a shame that I was thinking so much about being ‘ladylike’. All the social expectations which I was holding on to, were actually doing me no good in this time of distress. Then from nowhere, I made up my mind that I’ll go to Spiti with these men. I’ll go, BREATHE it out and escape all the darkness that surrounded my life here.

And, within a week, I found myself eating well, trying to buffer up for the tough ride that lay ahead and on the final day, packed the warmest clothes available in my wardrobe and took a giant leap of faith in trusting Ray, his roomie and myself.

The journey began from Delhi on two bikes, I had to adjust myself on the two wheeler and also hold on to a lot of luggage because the carrier didn’t hold it enough. From the moment the ignition of the bike was turned on, I felt an onrush on anticipation of a new beginning. This was the feeling that had been missing for so long and I’d been feeling rotten all this time. I found all of the negativity going away.

From Delhi to Shimla, I somehow held my bums together, flattened by constant sitting on the bike and the challenge of it made me forget all my dark thoughts that loomed large just a day before. The struggle here was always to keep myself warm, to sooth my butts, to relieve myself at clean petrol pump washrooms and to keep the stomach full on tight budget. These men, contrary to what I had expected, weren’t flirting with me at all, rather, they made me one of their pack.

I’ll just provide a brief itinerary of my Spiti trip here:

Day 1: Narkanda

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