The hiking trail

My doctoral fellowship at the University of Hamburg was nearing completion. An avid traveler, I wasn’t happy with the fact that my workload did not allow me to explore Germany the way I would have liked. But, I knew it was time. I had over a week to go before I had to defend my dissertation. And I thought I was comfortable.

“Do you know a good trail around where I could go hiking?”

Friedrich was pouring dark coffee, trying to make another attempt at understanding what problems his research actually solved. Does it make sense? Did I waste three years already? Is this it? There seem to be missing links. No? Whenever these questions popped up on his head, Fred (as we fondly called him) poured mugs of coffee. We all had our moments with coffee and abstract questions.

Fred was startled for a couple of seconds- “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You weren’t expecting that I would go hiking?”

“Yeah, right!”- he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“Schlagsdorf. My grandparents used to visit there. You can trek from there for several kilometers. They say it’s a nice trail with a scenic view. There’s a lake too. But beware, there are wild animals. The villagers at Schlagsdorf have spotted all kinds…”

Before he could finish, I had left. Leaving Fred startled again. And possibly annoyed.

I was at my desk, googling. It took me ten minutes. And I was already packing.

When I was at Schlagsdorf two days later, the villagers looked at me suspiciously. This was not one of the touristy hiking trails. Of all things, they weren’t expecting an Indian. The little German that I had picked up helped me converse with them about the dangers of taking the different alternative routes. I wouldn’t budge. I decided I would take the Bretzin- Vogelsen- Am Deich trail.

The forest was mildly dense. The altitude gain was not very tiring. At times, broken trees and naturally shaved greenery offered views of the lake. I removed my sunglasses every now and then to bask in the real colors of nature. Far away, across the lake, the snow adorning the unnamed mountains looked like straight out of some wallpaper. The chirping and fluttering birds scared and pleased me at the same time- over and over again.

I didn’t remember how long I had come when I spotted a house. In the middle of nowhere. Almost.

It was one of those houses which appeared to be an ideal location for shooting horror movies. Thankfully, the sun was bright. And I knew I would be sorry if I was not being curious. It wasn’t the typical German village house- it was a makeshift wooden house but decently big- one that would probably fit two rooms and a kitchen and a toilet. As I inched closer, I could hear faint sounds. It was difficult to make out what sounds they exactly were because of the noises that the birds made outside. But it was a distinct sound that came from inside the house.

I took my Swiss knife out and slid it under my left shirt sleeve.

“Tuck, tuck, tuck.”- I knocked.

No response.

“Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck.”

None yet.

I pushed the door a little. It made a sound typical of old wooden doors- it wasn’t loud but flat. The door was ajar. It gave me a glimpse of what’s inside. There was no one to be seen. Gathering a little more courage and even more impoliteness, I pushed it wide open and entered the room. The room looked naked, with very few furniture lying around.

“Anyone in there? Hello?”

I heard a rush of footsteps from the other room. The sound of birds and other animals grew aloud. I consciously held the knife strongly, expecting an encounter.

To my surprise, it was a middle-aged man in round glasses. He was shorter than an average German. His tattered shirt and shorts gave an impression that laundry was infrequent. Thankfully, he did not appear dangerous. Psychopath, I mean. But more importantly, he started speaking in English. Probably because I looked like I belonged to the Indian sub-continent.

“What are you doing here?”- he sounded half-angry and half-irritated.

“I was just hiking and I saw this house. Thought I would drop by.”

“Okay, what do you want?”

Not sure what to say, I asked for a glass of water. Befitting of a tired traveler.

He went in to get water as I prepared my next set of questions.

“So…umm, you stay here alone?”

“Yes!”

“Why don’t you move to the village down there?”- I pointed in some direction which was hardly right. But he got the idea, I think.

“I cannot. I have work here.”

“May I know, what kind of work?”

“No!” –he blurted out.

I wouldn’t push any more, but he had gained my attention. But I was unhappy I couldn’t know more.

Watching my face turn from inquisitive to disappointing, he added- “Some experiment. Only time will tell if I will succeed. And if I do, you’ll know.”

He must be a scientist, I thought. So, I offered to introduce myself. He wasn’t interested. He just nodded.

I bid goodbye and left, without shaking hands.

The next part of the trail was difficult. Made partly by the abrupt gain of altitude and the uneasy noises of animals, and partly by the various interpretations of his experiment in my mind. I was restless. And tired at the end of the trip.

Back in Hamburg, my dissertation went well. I flew back to India. Proud and with new experiences.

Forty years later…

I was visiting my son Piyush at his residence in Mumbai. My grandchildren were not as elated to see me as I used to be when my grandparents visited me. But I had come to accept it. Generation gap, as they say.

After dinner, they were busy with their devices, the names of which I can’t remember these days. When it was bedtime, Piyush went to switch on music.

I protested- “Why do you want to play music now? Let the kids sleep peacefully.”

Piyush chuckled. I knew he was mocking my ignorance.

“Baba, this will help them sleep peacefully.”

I was not sure how. He did not have to explain.

The music flowed. It was not music as we understood in our days. It was the sound of nature. Birds, animals, leaves, water- all mingled into a rhythm so beautiful that with lights turned off, it was difficult to tell that you were still in Mumbai.

Piyush elaborated -

“Baba, some French musician by the name of Aubert, spent more than half his life in a German forest to create this music. He studied birds and animal sounds in closed rooms to recreate their sounds as closely as possible with musical instruments. Imagine the arrangement of instruments he would have required. And the synchronization. He did it all alone, they say. I don’t believe, though! He gave his music a French name I cannot recall. But this is turning out to be an entirely new genre. For those of us living in cities, the only sounds we hear belong to the incessant traffic. I don’t know when I last heard birds chirping or water hitting rocks. Doctors are saying it’s therapeutic. Every city-dweller should listen to it before going to bed.”

I stood still in silence. Trying to recall what I had heard and seen. His experiment was successful. I longed to go back to Schlagsdorf.

I asked Piyush, “Is he still alive?”

“No, Baba. It was unfortunate. He was killed by an animal while he was wandering in the forest. He was found dead by some hiker. The recordings were discovered from his forest-house. The music was well documented- so it could be released. It was an instant hit! And students are trying to learn from his notes.”

I did not know whether I should be happy that I had met the legend or sad that he died lonely. I went back to my room, soaking in the music that was being created forty years back in my presence! It was supposed to let you sleep peacefully. But I could not sleep.