Representative image of straws
Credit: iStock Photo
It was the first trek of my life, and I had no idea what else a trek could involve besides walking a lot, which I didn’t mind. I needed a break from the routine, and trekking seemed like a good option. I looked forward to travelling in a group to a hitherto unknown location where I would get to play in water, see elephants getting trained, and take photos for posterity sake.
We began our trek with a focus on discovering the joys of walking in the wilderness. Well-laid, tarred roads soon gave way to muddy roads strewn with stones and dried weeds, some as sharp as thorns.
A couple of hours later, we found ourselves walking alongside the river Cauvery and then reaching the bottom of a steep hill, which we had to climb to reach our vehicle on the other side. Now, this was scary, as most of us were not used to climbing or were afraid
of heights, but there was just no other option.
We started the climb, helping one another even as we ourselves were struggling. We had to reach the other side, no matter what or how. A few effortlessly reached the top, and we hoped we would join them soon.
Suddenly, the instructor vanished from our sight. He had gone ahead in search of a good place for all of us to rest after reaching the top. Sadly, he didn’t check on those of us who were stuck midway. The smaller size of the river below alerted me to the scary height I had reached. I was reluctant to climb any further without help but could not afford to fall at any cost. That’s when these little things came to my aid.
The little tufts of dried grass all over the hill slope were my only hope as I made my way up, stubbornly holding on to them for dear life till I made it to the top, with mixed emotions of fear, joy, and gratitude to God and those little tufts of grass.
Years later, when I recall the first trek I completed successfully, I remember the little, hard, dried tufts of grass on the face of the hill. They seemed thorny and hard, but without them, I would not have made the climb. They helped me when nothing else did.
To this day, I believe simple things help profoundly. Those little tufts of dried grass continue to reinforce my trust in the power of simple words and gestures to improve the quality of life. I had often heard little things make a big difference—that day they did, between life and death, at least for me.