Dzükou Valley Had a Soundtrack
While walking down from the Dzükou Valley trek, I was playing random mixes on my phone, half-listening, half-tired, when I heard someone playing a flute. Not from a speaker, but live. I’d never really heard flute music like that away from the chaos of melas or busy streets. And there she was: standing barefoot, quietly soaking in the morning sun and the view. The valley that had looked so vivid just moments earlier had turned misty. But she remained still, almost part of the silence itself.
There was something calming about the entire scenario. I just stood there and listened. Eventually, she paused to take a sip of water, and I said hi. We talked about the weather, the trail, and how the descent wasn’t too bad. Then the usual: where we were from, how we got there. That’s when I found out she was from the Kutch region same as my family.
She told me about tribes and communities I’d never even heard of. Which, honestly, said a lot — because all my visits to Kutch had followed the same old pilgrimage route. I had never really explored the region like that. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, without many questions. Just a calm exchange in the middle of nowhere.
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Eventually, one of my trek partners called out. My break had stretched too long. It was time to move on. We shook hands, said goodbye — and in the urgency, forgot to exchange contact info. For some reason, I let that moment pass. Maybe we’ll meet again. Or maybe not. Maybe that kind of calm doesn’t need to be chased.
Something I heard on repeat recently -
