When cloud gets lighter .... it comes down, embraces the tall pine trees, the high ups and downs of the streets, plays peekaboo with visual appearance and disappearance...... the highroad went high and high , the end was smudged in fog....but the segment of the highroad which went downward was my road..... a few 200 downward loose steps and came a wooden house of two storeys. We stayed there . It was only 4'o clock in the afternoon, but the time was suffering from illusions , since it was a cloudy foggy day. I was amazed by every single sight....every single scenery ..... each and every piece of view is like a precious moment to share. By 6 o'clock it was night. I stood in front of a huge glass window and got lost among the twinkling little lights which were beaconing me from a distance .... suddenly my father comes in and breaks the silence, he calls my mother and says her : come and have a look at the lights from the other side of the valley.
The smell of chicken curry diverted me to the kitchen , isolating my parents for a while with the window and its view. My younger brother was too young and nature meant too complicated for him, all which excited him was the chicken curry.
Next destination of memory located in Mall, Darjeeling's most popular centre. Too many photos, few funny moments, and my parents whispers which were all their. Me and my brother got a chance to torture a little horse, actually ride it, but my brother's sudden whim of a heroic figure, really made me nervous. Anyways , that episode was too short, I could feel my parents' nervousness too. We used to climb the sharp mountain roads, the downs were more enjoyable. Came across Gurap, a local flower named after rose, Hindi: Gulap. It was bigger than a rose , bloomed in bunches, and the smell of it was different, though lost in memories, but the bright colours are still fresh...pink, peach, red, orange. Only huge mountains shawled with stretches of clouds. It was summer in Bengal, Darjeeling was in both sun and rains, and rains here are very rustic - very moody, thankfully we carried umbrellas. The taste of fresh jelly candies, for the first time there, it was like heavens then. Indeed a piece of heaven in Bengal. Pine trees ....long haired dogs and cats, wrinkled skin people and eyes inside puffed cheeks, their smile of simplicity.... and as a child the most memorable one - the toy train trip to Ghum.
Every time and always returns are pathetic. I remembered crying quietly , and whispered to the lushful greens of the tea gardens : I will miss you.
The summer of 1992, captured in a few photo albums, our family aged and extended, even one passed , it's all a memory now. Hopefully I may go to Darjeeling , but 1992 will always be special, my first meeting with the mountains.
The smell of chicken curry diverted me to the kitchen , isolating my parents for a while with the window and its view. My younger brother was too young and nature meant too complicated for him, all which excited him was the chicken curry.
Next destination of memory located in Mall, Darjeeling's most popular centre. Too many photos, few funny moments, and my parents whispers which were all their. Me and my brother got a chance to torture a little horse, actually ride it, but my brother's sudden whim of a heroic figure, really made me nervous. Anyways , that episode was too short, I could feel my parents' nervousness too. We used to climb the sharp mountain roads, the downs were more enjoyable. Came across Gurap, a local flower named after rose, Hindi: Gulap. It was bigger than a rose , bloomed in bunches, and the smell of it was different, though lost in memories, but the bright colours are still fresh...pink, peach, red, orange. Only huge mountains shawled with stretches of clouds. It was summer in Bengal, Darjeeling was in both sun and rains, and rains here are very rustic - very moody, thankfully we carried umbrellas. The taste of fresh jelly candies, for the first time there, it was like heavens then. Indeed a piece of heaven in Bengal. Pine trees ....long haired dogs and cats, wrinkled skin people and eyes inside puffed cheeks, their smile of simplicity.... and as a child the most memorable one - the toy train trip to Ghum.
Every time and always returns are pathetic. I remembered crying quietly , and whispered to the lushful greens of the tea gardens : I will miss you.
The summer of 1992, captured in a few photo albums, our family aged and extended, even one passed , it's all a memory now. Hopefully I may go to Darjeeling , but 1992 will always be special, my first meeting with the mountains.
