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A love story set in the Himalaya mountains.
Extracts from my 2nd book by Sherry Marshall
Sydney CBD and Northern Beaches Process Therapist and Relationships Counsellor
The dazzling rays of the sun glinted golden as they briefly touched the wing of the plane, as it dipped and wheeled across the empty sky. As the plane straightened, the white gold mountains suddenly and unexpectedly surrounded them, as if they had become imprisoned within the circle of the mandala. They had become an intricate part of the earth and the sky, the shadow of the plane like a giant vulture about to descend to pick the bones clean in a sky burial ritual which is as ancient as the hills themselves. Their shadow reflected on the cool, brown, sliding circumference of the undulating mountain, topped by radiant white lightening snow. There appeared to be no runway, only rivers and snow mountains stretching across the valley floor. Tara felt like she could just open the window and stretch her hand out and touch the top of the mountains, they were so close to them.
They began a lazy circle, spiraling down. The moment froze in time as Tara craned her neck towards the window, pushing her nose into the glass, trying to catch glimpse after glimpse. She felt totally enchanted. This is it, she thought. This is really it. Finally to arrive at her spiritual home. A great silence fell on all those around her, as if each passenger realized the great significance of their near arrival in this precious and special place. Looking out over the high turrets at the top of the monasteries, chasms of clouds whirling high in the sky like the vultures resembling whirlpools of smoke, indistinguishable from the snow caps.
That is how she had imagined it to be. The reality was somewhat different. The plane was full of trekker types with loud, mainly American accents all looking and sounding the same. They wore walking boots, encased in thick socks, even though the temperature was over 30 degrees when they had left Delhi. Their backpacks looked liked they contained one change of clothes and nothing more, though many were obviously planning to stay a while. The sky was ominous, black and full of clouds and they bumped their way along in a smallish air india plane, which looked like it was last serviced at the end of World War Two. It felt like every breath of wind picked them up and threw them down again as they were buffeted along, always at risk of being blown into the mountainside. The more knowledgeable of them began to wonder if this was one of the flights that was regularly cancelled because of bad weather.
They had been informed that the two daily flights in and out of Ladakh were often postponed, either because of the inclement conditions, or that one of the only four pilots allowed to captain this flight because it was so dangerous, was incapacitated in some way. Someone was noisily throwing up, no doubt induced by too much alcohol the night before. She clung tightly to her seat, eyes shut tight, trying to pretend that she was merely on a bumpy train.
………..More to follow soon from Sherry Marshall, Sydney CBD Process Psychology counsellor and relationships therapist.