Finding and Seeking: Adventures in getting lost in Meghalaya
As a child, growing up in my small town school, one of the first books I recollect reading was Jules Verne — Journey to the Center of the earth. It was my first introduction to science fiction, and it was a classic example of the explorer archetype — A tale of the intrepid Professor Liedenbrock who embarks upon the strangest expedition of the nineteenth century: a journey down an extinct Icelandic volcano to the Earth’s very core. In his quest to penetrate the planet’s primordial secrets, the geologist — together with his quaking nephew Axel and their devoted guide, Hans — discovers an astonishing subterranean menagerie of prehistoric proportions.
A couple of decades later, the subterranean ecosystem I encountered in real life were the Arwah caves in Cherrapunjee, Meghalaya. Nestled in the high mountains of Sohra valley, the walk to the caves itself is a sight to behold. I took the risk of going to Cherrapunjee in the monsoons (which till a decade ago received the highest rainfall in the world). It was a calculated risk, and I was hoping my trip wasn’t going to go awry with rains playing spoilsport. But with the danger of rains comes entwined the beauty of the mist.
As I slowly walked the path to the caves, the mist descended upon me, eerily making its presence felt as the tip of my nose grew cold. As if the mist itself was a precursor to the calmness that enveloped me— A calmness which makes one hear the chirping of birds and the chirping of my own mind — those little voices which get drowned out in our maddening urban existence, now forcing, cajoling their way out into my conscious mind. The sound of my own footsteps punctuated my thoughts, and in the vastness of the dense jungles around me— I became acutely aware of the difference between seeking and finding.
In our lives, we are often asked to seek things — knowledge, love, happiness, fortunes or even fulfillment. And when we seek, our eyes only see the things we seek and we often find and experience very limited things, because we always think of the things we are seeking. We have one goal and we become obsessed with that goal. I was going out to seek the underground caves, which were thousands of years old and spread across a kilometer or so. The caves were lit in parts to help one navigate. I was going towards the fag end of the day, aware that in the hills the sun sets sooner. I was probably among the last people to go in. I had a torch in hand, and I traversed through labyrinths, taking in this marvel of nature. These caves seemed to be crafted with patience, and in ways only nature can fathom— Perpetual darkness, high humidity, almost constant temperature, low airflow and higher carbon dioxide concentrations — and yet it was a unique niche ecosystem, thriving with life, which I was to soon encounter.
My wandering mind was brought back to more pressing concerns when the lights just went off. Here I was, underground, with no electricity and water flowing everywhere, not a soul in sight. I tried to find my way — ducking and crawling — I seemed to be making headway until I inexplicably stopped, when the only sane thing to do was to keep moving. It was as if my body had taken over from my mind. The body became the charioteer Krishna, giving much needed counsel to the warrior mind Arjuna, noticing the early warning signs and preparing for battle ahead.
One of the brains regions responsible for this early warning system is the locus ceruleus, so called because its cells are cerulean or deep blue. Situated in the brain stem, the most primitive part of the brain, sitting atop the spine, it responds to novelty and promotes a state of arousal. It registers the change long before conscious awareness. By doing so, it galvanizes the brain into a heightened state of vigilance, and lowering our sensory thresholds so that we hear the faintest sound, notice the slightest movement. Athletes experiencing this effect have said that when caught up in the game, they can pick out every voice in the stadium, see every blade of grass.
I caught a flurry of activity out of the corner of my eye — a swarm of bats! I had entered the wrong tunnel which had an entire bat colony living on the roof. And as I disturbed their peaceful existence, they came rushing out of the cave. I ducked in time and managed to avoid them. I tried my best to retrace my steps, and my heightened senses kicked in. I made rapid progress despite having only a torch in hand, and the lights came on eventually as I found my way out. Those were some of the longest 15 minutes I had experienced, but they were valuable as they brought me to this beautiful realization.
One of the greatest qualities a man (or a woman) can have is the ability to laugh at himself. As I found my way back, more than relief, I found a lightness — a realization that getting lost is the constant companion on the journey to find oneself. In our world driven by outcomes and successes, we need to pull ourselves back from seeking, and spend more time finding — as while seeking rewards us with enhancing our understanding of the world, finding oneself is a reward far greater.
