If you are from India, chances are that you have heard the tale of The Mountain Man a thousand times. You have been wow-ed by the feat he achieved and shared that post many a times. Today, as I sat down and watched the film made on his life, I felt a need to re-tell the story again. Maybe, my heart could not accept that some people would not know him. Perhaps, I did not want him to move on as just another trend of the internet.
This was a man, who lost his wife to a mountain and decided to move the mountain itself. This is not a story of making the Taj Mahal, something of grandeur, something so beautiful that the Earth bows before it. This is the story of madness, and of romance, and the gift is that of great utility to everyone.
And you know what? This is such a strange tale. If you hear about rural India it is either about rags to riches or about the deplorable conditions. Manjhi’s story illustrates both and neither. There is this madness in the story of his. The madness of a man who takes on the mountain. This is perhaps not as glamorous as climbing the Everest, but, bringing down a whole mountain, bringing down the nature, that’s something poetic.
I miss Bihar now, have been away for a month.
I would love to feel the air again. There is a stubbornness there, that runs deep into the soul. There is a stubbornness everywhere in my country.
I guess that’s how we survive against all…