May 1, 2025 to June 25, 2025
Sikkim : ಋಣಾನುಬಂಧ (ṟṇānubandha)
Reflecting on my brief time at TIEEDI compared to the months I’ve spent with families in the hamlets of Assam, Meghalaya, and Sikkim, I realize that viewing plastic as the ultimate evil is misguided. Plastic plays a critical role in daily life—whether in farming, trekking, or simply getting by. The real problem isn’t plastic itself, but how we misuse it. The same goes for the idea of “living with Nature.” For the educated and fortunate, we choose to live with nature when it suits us, but treat it like a dumping ground when it doesn’t.
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In contrast, the mountain-dwellers of Sikkim live in genuine harmony with their environment. They know which forest plants and mushrooms are edible and can identify birds by sight or sound amid the cacophony of the forest. The family I stayed with practices Yumaism. While a Western perspective might label them “animistic” or “tribal,” the depth of their knowledge and their care for all living beings is astounding. Even leeches—which bleed you every time you step outside—are respected as fellow creatures. My friends taught me not to kill them, even when I know I’ve lost half my blood to them in Sikkim.
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Here, I ran a 65km trail marathon, followed by the inaugural GoecheLa 50k trail run—a grueling race with a 3,700-meter climb to be completed within 17 hours. Just days later, I trekked to GoecheLa.
My time here has been transformative. I didn’t know my potential until I completed these two ultras within two weeks. Each time, I reminded myself: if I can ride 12–16 hours in the mountains, I can certainly run or walk that long. That thought carried me through mountains, valleys, and misty pine and rhododendron forests.
For the first race, I didn’t even have proper trail shoes. A dog had run off with one of my shoes; when I found it, the Salomon's quicklace was missing. With makeshift laces, I managed to finish the ultra.
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And, the GoecheLa Trail run cannot be described in words.
After these ultras and the trek, I recovered a bit and began trail running with my host, who, nearing 60, runs like a mountain goat. He and his wife work all day on the farm, doing physically demanding work. They let me join them, albeit with some hesitation, since guests here are treated like gods. I explained that I enjoy the physical work because it keeps me away from my phone, the internet, and unnecessary worries.
Later, they invited me to their Yumaism prayer meetings, where I met their living deity. As someone who’s always pushing limits, I welcome all the blessings, goodwill, and opportunities to learn. At these meetings, they sing hymns in the Limboo language—not Hindi or Nepali. Planning to stay longer in these parts of India-Nepal, I decided to learn the language for the mental exercise.
When time allowed, I squeezed in a couple of rides—one especially tough, with a 9,000-foot elevation gain over 60 miles. My friend pleaded with me not to stop halfway in Pelling but to return to his home no matter how late it got. Spending the night in Pelling would have made the ride easier but less rewarding.
So, I took the longer route, stopped to chat with another friend who had hosted me before, then, as the temperature hit the 90s, took a quick nap under a roadside tree before making it to Pelling, completely spent. I finished my work and pedaled down toward Yuksom, refueling with two plates of momos and chai at a roadside stand. Thanks to the many trail and community runs I’d done here, the roads and hamlets felt familiar and safe—like home, even when riding after sundown.
The community here is small and tightly knit. Everyone is related by one or two degrees, even in the “far away” hamlets. I truly feel part of this community.
Spending time among these “unknowns,” I’m reminded of the Kannada word, ಋಣಾನುಬಂಧ (ṟṇānubandha). This word captures a sentiment that might take an entire paragraph to explain: it describes how my path crosses with strangers who then become family. I’m not reaping the goodwill of my own actions, but benefiting from what my ancestors sowed. Well-wishers, both alive and departed, contribute to my well-being, no matter how far I push my luck—and I know I’m pushing it further every day.
Today's ride: 200 km (124 miles)
Total: 2,884 km (1,791 miles)
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