Navarasa in Nature - 3 & 4 (Anger and Disgust)

Roudram and Bheebatsam

One of my most cherished dreams had come true. My first Himalayan trek. As I lay on a grassy patch next to my tent in Spiti, I looked up at the night sky. It was so densely packed with stars that it seemed as though there was no room for even one more. The sight of the Milky Way painted across the sky was hypnotic.?

A small waterfall next to my camp sang a lullaby calming my restless heart. I recollected moments from the extraordinary experience I had as I drifted off to sleep. A river for a companion, flowing by our trail, the soothing sound of the water as it danced over pebbles and rocks. Majestic mountains, guardians of this path stood tall and grand on all sides, their peaks piercing the sky. Every few kilometres the landscape unveiled a new layer of its limitless magic. It was everything I had ever imagined my first Himalayan trek to be. Yet, I never thought I would feel disgust and anger in the embrace of nature.?

It happened that morning. The day’s hike began with watching the mountain peaks reveal themselves with the rising sun. The air, crisp and pure, filled my lungs as we went higher; a reset for the body and mind. Gentle paths, perfect for a lover’s walk, suddenly gave way to rugged trails where one misstep could send stones and hearts tumbling. The trail meandered through fields of wildflowers in vibrant shades of red and yellow.?

As I was walking across a patch of flowers, I found something jarringly out of place - a fizzy drink bottle. It was tucked in the middle of the flowerbed, trying to seamlessly merge with the red. The sight was a punch to the gut. The contrast was disgusting. As I walked the winding trail, the litter strewn along the way was a glaring scar on the beautiful landscape. It tugged at my conscience. It made me angry. I found myself mumbling a string of curse words with each step. How could we be so careless??

My frustration grew so much that I had to do something. I stopped, reached into my backpack and pulled out a garbage bag. One by one, I gathered every bit of discarded carelessness, every shred of thoughtless privilege, every fragment of our collective unawareness. I walked the next 6 km, eyes down, hands busy, heart heavy. This was not just about the litter; it was about our relationship with the earth. Each discarded item was a proof of our contempt, a sign of how far we had strayed from respecting the world that sustains us.?

As I continued down the trail, I reflected on our approach to travel. We often view nature as if it exists solely for our enjoyment - the flying bird, the drifting cloud and the flowing river all seemingly putting up a show for us. Is this mindset steeped in entitlement and privilege? Are we failing to recognize that we are merely specks in the vast design of the natural world? My disgust and anger were more about our arrogance and carelessness than the plastic waste I picked.?

Nature has its way of reminding us of our true place on earth. Sometimes with its fury and natural disasters, it teaches us not to be arrogant. These moments of devastation are reminders of our vulnerability and insignificance in the grand scheme of things. We who walk the earth with the illusion of advancement and control, are brought to our knees by the wild, ungovernable force of the natural world. Nature operates on a scale far beyond our comprehension.?

As we started our descent, my anger and disgust turned inward, leading me to question my own actions. I am not blameless; I have travelled far from home to seek solace here. Why do I have to come on these hikes? I have been enjoying the hot bhajiyas, palak paneer and garam paranthe served by the trekking company every day. Do I really need such an indulgent feast at this altitude? Where does all the kitchen garbage go from here? Can I hike, eat basic food, and carry the garbage back home? Even as the mountains’ majesty called to me, I found myself questioning the impact of my presence here. Each meal, every bit of packaging added to a growing burden on this pristine environment. What can I do to bring about a change??

Perhaps it is our ‘arrogance,’ as George Carlin says, that makes us believe we have the power to save the planet. As he reminds us, the Earth has been around for 4.5 billion years and will outlive us. The question of whether we have the power to destroy or save the planet remains debatable. However, I believe we can learn to respect nature as a way of life. By starting with small acts of gratitude and respect, we can probably learn to live in harmony with nature once again.?

Nature feels no guilt in its moments of darkness and fury for it is equally capable of beauty, love and care. It moves through cycles, unburdened by the need for approval and understanding. If we could embrace our own complexities, accept our shadows along with our light and find balance within ourselves, we might avoid causing imbalance in the world around us. Perhaps by achieving this inner harmony, we could live in sync with nature, not as spectators seeking enjoyment but as humble participants, recognizing our place within its vast intricate design.?

In the end, this journey became more than a trek. It was a call to mindfulness, a reminder to walk gently, to listen deeply, to respect and cherish knowing that we are part of something greater than ourselves. My disgust and anger at the careless litter forced me to think of our arrogance, privilege, and illusion of control over nature. And that the only lesson we humans need to learn is to respect and be grateful. For nature has, and can, survive without us; but we can't survive without nature.