Sunshine Days

Winter. Almora

Early morning…I just woke up from my deep slumber. I felt drowsy…sleepy. I felt terribly tired...slowly picked up my jacket from the hanger.

I came here yesterday evening for a couple days stay. Had a long bus ride from Haldwani, where I was staying with my brother. Six hours of bus ride had, drained of my energy. I still had not recovered from the back seat bumps.

Back in the City of Joy...I was always a late riser.

But something is very special about Almora, its air...its festivity...people...it’s old temples...old stoned carved roads...small groceries...the bal-mithai shops, where everyday people would gather not only to buy but also to share their stories...of pain...of love….of everydays ordinary life...like it always has been for centuries.
I never wanted to waste a single moment in lazy thoughts there…I always had something to see, to explore, to smell, to touch, to wonder…to fill my lungs with fresh oxygen..

I was staying in a small wooden cottage behind the army cantonment in Almora…covered with forests....It is a perfect location for spending days in solitude…no noise....no traffic…no pollution...no exams...thousands of mile away from my dreams, aspirations...I was tired of chasing them.

I took a chair...opened the window….small wooden window…no grills.
Took a deep breath and sat down.
It was a kind of foggy day…sun was slowly rising above the horizon…sparkling rays were playing hide-n-seek in my corridor…I could see the rays falling in deodars in front of my window…couple of squirrels were at their fighting best…calm...quiet...serene.

I had a peculiar feeling…I was happy…I was dreaming..

I looked up.
I could see the narrow winding road down mountain…serpentine...I could see it partially…covered with trees on one side and a steep gorge at another. I could also see little children in their smart uniform going to school...Couple of Army Truck...few cycles..life as usual..

I could also see her...standing in the roof of her small house on right of my window...she was the daughter of a local grocery man...fondly called Lala-Ji by all..
She was drying her hair…standing at the edge of the roof…empty bluish sky...morning sun had just risen enough to fill the color palette by a shade of orange...but still there is a chill in the air...sometimes razor sharp winds cuts through your woolen clothing’s…there is an nothingness in front of me...

As far as I can see..only lush green mountain landscape..

I put my hands outside the window…trying to get some vitamin D on my skin…

Again I see her….she is now drying up lal mirchi on a small jute mat…
She looked stunning…as beautiful as the mountain in front of me....pure…unknown…ethereal..

So near...but yet so far…as wind blows…her hair falls across her forehead...

she had already become a part of the wintry sunshine morning..

Cring Cring….
Door bell rang….
I looked at my watch…7.15am..
“Who will come to see me” I thought.
“No body knows that I am in Almora” I tried to be rational.
I went up to the front door…and opened the door.

An old man…70 plus…Wrinkled face, broken specs, a perfect kumaoni topi on his head, maroon crumpled sweater…his skins reflected the hardships in the mountains..a jhola on his shoulder..
“Yes”. I said in softly…
“I am Kisen Lal….Postman”…he replied..
“I was passing by… saw windows open...” he stopped to take his breath.

“No one comes here now days. Earlier a bengali babu stayed here…I was his friend…” he said feebly.
I immediately knew...he was talking about my Grandfather…
“I am his grandson”...I responded with a smile.

He stood there…motionless...probably wondering and trying his best to relate me to a long lost friend....ages had passed…since he last saw my grand-pa...suddenly his eyes lit up...probably there was tears too..
Like early morning dew…lit up in a perfect sunshine.

He hugged me.