PART 1 – The Prelude
Long long ago, I had read stories of the folks who lived in distant villages surrounded by high hills; of villages separated from the world by the ring of hills; and of the villagers who worked and played together under the vast canopy of bright blue sky and sneaked into their small houses when darkness fell.
In the winter nights, attired in a voluptuously white gown, the world would appear more confined than ever when the angels would unfurl the diamonds-studded blanket heavily over the hamlet, leaving the fringes loosely hanging over the other sides of the hills, towards the world unseen. And the horizon would seem to shine forth in the dazzling brilliance of the snow.
In a crystalline clean autumn morning, sun stretched his golden-orange arms and the molten diamonds dropped into the red open mouths of daisies and cracked open on the slanting palms of the plants. Under the glassy-golden shadow of the sun, a thousand stars would lay scattered, twinkling on the velvety-green carpet. The happy canary would hop at the branch and send forth melodies in air to wake the children up from their warm, fluffy beds. Soon the children would come out cheering and running towards the north hill, for the demon grand mother had warned about resided near the lake in the south.
Away from their noise, as if under the spell of the demon, young lovers would meet at the serene shores of the lake. Sitting for hours holding the hands of beloved in theirs, they would blush and smile, while the wind carried carts of cotton over the water, still since ages. The girl would gaze in the water and see how lovely they looked together with their faces floating on the blue mirror. And the boy would look amusingly at the sight of her ear-rings mating with her maiden-pink cheeks, and would fall in love again.
And far from the world of promises and their vanity, the children treaded their way up the hill through thorny bushes and dry leaves crackling beneath their feet. Unaware of the scratches on their hands, they climbed trees and sat on the branches. They chewed tender leaves and tasted unknown, unripe fruits, some bitter, some sour, but all tasty. And they plucked wild flowers and made garlands for little sisters. After wandering for some time, running after butterflies, and dipping their feet in the cold mountain spring, they would stroll back to their old spot and look up at the beehive and wonder if it had grown any larger. And then they would relax there and leave for home only after they hear the sound of the evening bells from the temple.
PART 2 – The Journey
A sudden jerk woke me up.
to be continued..
Long long ago, I had read stories of the folks who lived in distant villages surrounded by high hills; of villages separated from the world by the ring of hills; and of the villagers who worked and played together under the vast canopy of bright blue sky and sneaked into their small houses when darkness fell.
In the winter nights, attired in a voluptuously white gown, the world would appear more confined than ever when the angels would unfurl the diamonds-studded blanket heavily over the hamlet, leaving the fringes loosely hanging over the other sides of the hills, towards the world unseen. And the horizon would seem to shine forth in the dazzling brilliance of the snow.
In a crystalline clean autumn morning, sun stretched his golden-orange arms and the molten diamonds dropped into the red open mouths of daisies and cracked open on the slanting palms of the plants. Under the glassy-golden shadow of the sun, a thousand stars would lay scattered, twinkling on the velvety-green carpet. The happy canary would hop at the branch and send forth melodies in air to wake the children up from their warm, fluffy beds. Soon the children would come out cheering and running towards the north hill, for the demon grand mother had warned about resided near the lake in the south.
Away from their noise, as if under the spell of the demon, young lovers would meet at the serene shores of the lake. Sitting for hours holding the hands of beloved in theirs, they would blush and smile, while the wind carried carts of cotton over the water, still since ages. The girl would gaze in the water and see how lovely they looked together with their faces floating on the blue mirror. And the boy would look amusingly at the sight of her ear-rings mating with her maiden-pink cheeks, and would fall in love again.
And far from the world of promises and their vanity, the children treaded their way up the hill through thorny bushes and dry leaves crackling beneath their feet. Unaware of the scratches on their hands, they climbed trees and sat on the branches. They chewed tender leaves and tasted unknown, unripe fruits, some bitter, some sour, but all tasty. And they plucked wild flowers and made garlands for little sisters. After wandering for some time, running after butterflies, and dipping their feet in the cold mountain spring, they would stroll back to their old spot and look up at the beehive and wonder if it had grown any larger. And then they would relax there and leave for home only after they hear the sound of the evening bells from the temple.
PART 2 – The Journey
A sudden jerk woke me up.
to be continued..
