Why do we treat fear as a ghost, when it could be our greatest guide?

I was scared of being lost there, in the forest, for some days and some nights. I knew it wasn’t that far from the city and my phone, though its signal barely signalled something, offered little comfort in this wilderness. Moreover, I spent no more than four hours there, yet I was afraid, perhaps intensified by the absence of human companionship.

It was raining, not a heavy shower but a gentle dance of droplets, occasionally forming hammering drops in the canopy above. Leeches, tiny but after penetrating the shoes — I was wearing fabric shoes at that time — socks, and some even through the weaving of the pants, made their disgusting presence felt. Thoughts of forest tales from movies and news played in my mind like haunting melodies, and on top of that my lungs, recently on the mend, echoed a podcast where an Indian actor recounted fainting due to his ailing lungs.

With all these thoughts in my head, I kept climbing. I had an old umbrella, a big non-foldable one, which I used to carry with me most of the time during the rainy season which made a great hiking stick that day. I remember, once I took the wrong direction, out of the hiking trail, for a brief five minutes and got back only after realizing that I was getting into the denser part of the forest.

Out of all those things and thinking that happened out there, I now realized that it was the silence that I was scared of. Amidst the white noise of rain, chirping birds, chilling breezes, and rustling leaves, and the rhythmic beat of footsteps on trails lined with dry leaves. Raindrops drumming on my umbrella and when closed, the tip of the umbrella hitting the ground synchronized with each step and every breath from my ailing lungs; amidst this symphony, a palpable silence enveloped me — an eerie feeling that originated from the unknown.

But with each higher step, something shifted. The fear didn’t vanish, but it dulled, morphed into a familiar echo, a low hum amidst the wild symphony of the forest. It was as if the forest, having tested me, was revealing its true nature — a wild, untamed beauty whispering secrets to those who dared to listen. As if it was something that I knew about and was always there with me since ages.

So, wrapping up the story — I had this clip from the journey, on my way downhill and one day, lingering around the Gallery, I some how felt like playing it. A dumb idea then came to my mind — what if I added some melodic backdrop? I searched for a tune in my ukulele for it. Found it! The tone reminded me of an incomplete poem, that I never wrote down, a few years back. And to my surprise, it was a perfect fit for the music — at least sounded to me. I recorded it on my phone. Thought of adding some musical toppings too - did it using Bandlab. Asked my sister to help me with chorus — she agreed although, she thinks she have this funny singing vocal like mine but in a different way. Layered the audio on top of the video using Inshot, a video editing app. I almost forgot — I added some edits using the same app to the video too. A little secret for you — since you came all the way down to here — all the birds chirping in the video were added in this app.
Finally, baked it in the Instagram’s drafts for a month or two and now, here I’m, wrapping it up with this story. And here it is, raw but ready to be served!

Thanks for reading.