Monday, March 30, 2009

One entry lost! Mighty Himalayas

One entry lost! Mighty Himalayas magnify

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But i have promises to keep,

And miles to go before i sleep,

And miles to go before i sleep

Robert Frost

I am into the lovely valleys of mighty Himalayas,transported there by my favourate poem. I remember the mossy barks, huge bright flowers and pink indirect sunlight. Our cheeks would turn red and wrapped up in rabbit fur we would run down the cobbled path faster faster with flowers in our arms. All shopkeepers knew me as i used to say hi to every one on the way some would give me sweets. Istudied in a Christian school and the only thing i remember doing in the class eas -to look out of the window at the lake where there would be yach racing each other and i would think -ok this red one is mine if this reaches the other shore i will win. One day my mother found me standing under a water fall all wet, she was so angry when i told her that i wanted to use my umbrella so i was standing under the water, now mother myself i can understand her mental state.I still think that after 40 i will go to hills make a wooden cottage on our land with a study and huge glass windows. Have a little farm with vegetables and a cow and a dog. I can tell you that dogs have very strong sixth sense, in Nainital, same place in hills where i studied there were 7-8 dogs i played with all jumped and made cute sounds as they saw me, i think i was a dog in one of my births, you should see reactions of dogs to me. So when i was there i would put my arms around these huge furry dogs and sometimes even sit on them one of the Bhotia ferocious dog which was my favourate all day i would hang out at places with animals. When i would come back to plains for few months all these dogs would follow me to the bus and they would have tears in eyes and make ki-ki sounds till i stroked their necks, they would come to know when i was leaving. My father says that dogs can see our past lives, may be.The smell of burning wood on a rainy day and with it smell of roasting food wafting through green branches around. See this writing holds a mirror to us abd tell us who we are who we were and what we are becoming, isnt it true? Tell me.

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