we paint with colours....we paint with words....and we paint with feelings as well.
as i sit down at my computer this rain drenched morning, i witness a beautiful sight just outside my window...an emerald countryside, with lush green paddy on either side, as far and as wide as the eye can see....bluish hils in the distance, and a silent solemn Kopili sailing beside. The road is bumpy, and full of interjections--cows lazing, snotty children playing, tanned workers drying hay in d sun--all on the road, and yet, for a first timer like yours truly, its fun. The driver grumbles at the pathetic roads...and i laugh in glee each time we ride the bumps and troughs of this apology of a road...the countryside around me lilts and sways .. and .i am reminded of Dylan Thomas
"All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay"
I know not how it is, and yet I can smell the hay.
we arrive at our destination--kampur--snuggled amidst memories, in the district of Nagon, it falls somewhere in between NH 36 and NH 37. The railways are the most effective means for transmuters. It is a town, and yet, the Kapili flows alongside...it is a few steps away from where we are put up. I am thrilled. The blessings of technology are to be seen everywhere, and yet somehow people haven't forgotten to be warm. It is my first time there, and not even for once do i feel that i am not at home. a small world, people mostly know one another, and by the time we bid adieus to this place..i know most of them too...