Tell me something people, do you smell the air? I mean, I know there's a whole lot of better things than the air to go around smelling, but do you? I do. I smell the air when buses burn, when I ride a diesel engined train, when I'm in a hospital, or an antique shop. And when it is a night like tonight. Tonight, it's awkwardly cold for a mid summer's night. It has rained in the evening, and now, the neem tree just outside my bedroom window, I'm sure is glittering, though no one sees her, except maybe that pagla kokil. It's nights like these that make me homesick. Homesick, yes, you've heard it right. It makes me long for the mountains. I know, I'm a hardcore city chap, with Dominoes and pornography inscribed in my brain. But, it is nights like these, that make me want to run away, and go back to the mountains. I get the same feeling when I listen to Denver's Country Roads.
That strange, cold, pure air burning the insides of my lung. If I close my eyes, I can see the clouds rushing up towards me from the valleys, and above, in the mountain top, hundreds of Tibetian flags, people think they're supposed to spread the message of Budhha, but actually, they're just trying to tear themselves out of that flag post, and fly away. Birds. Yes, they are the true birds. I can smell boiling thuppa, which I'll gorge on in a few minutes, I can hear the sound of utensils in the kitchen, tea is being prepared. I stare out of my bedroom window, and down there, right below, far away, is the world, and this, is the heaven.
One of my secret (not much of a secret anymore) desires in life, is to marry a hill girl (my mother says they don't bathe a lot, but who cares, even I don't.) and it is maybe because of this reason, everytime, when I visit the mountains, I fall in love with a girl. Now, because Im such a li'l twat, so with me, falling in love ain't a big issue. I seem to fall in love rather often (which in turn has decreased my chances of getting laid to miniscule proportions). But at present, I'm actually being reminded of one certain girl. I don't really remember her face. Just a red sweater, and red snickers. I never even talked to her in the 24 hours I was in her vicinity. I didn't get to know what she thinks, what she feels, what is right, and what is wrong to her, 'cos I knew, it wouldn't have changed anything. And seriously, I wouldn't have actually cared, or maybe I would have. The things I mentioned, they matter a lot for me. I guess my desire, will always remain a desire.
I remember her name. Shiring it was, if I can remember properly. Shiring, is the name of a bird. Beautiful, tai na? I know, why I always fall in love with hill girls. Maybe because, they symbolise, the mountains to me. They, She, symbolises the mountains. Free. Pure. Still untouched by profits, demands, and supplies. Virgin. Yes, you've heard it right. Virgin.
And maybe that's why, I'll always stay away from her, cos, that way, she'll be virgin, to me, forever. Mountains are my home, a home, I'll never dare to settle down in. It's rather better to smell the air instead, searching for that sweet, cold, misty flavour. And again, when I'll find it again, maybe I'll sit down, and tell you all a bit more about my home.
That strange, cold, pure air burning the insides of my lung. If I close my eyes, I can see the clouds rushing up towards me from the valleys, and above, in the mountain top, hundreds of Tibetian flags, people think they're supposed to spread the message of Budhha, but actually, they're just trying to tear themselves out of that flag post, and fly away. Birds. Yes, they are the true birds. I can smell boiling thuppa, which I'll gorge on in a few minutes, I can hear the sound of utensils in the kitchen, tea is being prepared. I stare out of my bedroom window, and down there, right below, far away, is the world, and this, is the heaven.
One of my secret (not much of a secret anymore) desires in life, is to marry a hill girl (my mother says they don't bathe a lot, but who cares, even I don't.) and it is maybe because of this reason, everytime, when I visit the mountains, I fall in love with a girl. Now, because Im such a li'l twat, so with me, falling in love ain't a big issue. I seem to fall in love rather often (which in turn has decreased my chances of getting laid to miniscule proportions). But at present, I'm actually being reminded of one certain girl. I don't really remember her face. Just a red sweater, and red snickers. I never even talked to her in the 24 hours I was in her vicinity. I didn't get to know what she thinks, what she feels, what is right, and what is wrong to her, 'cos I knew, it wouldn't have changed anything. And seriously, I wouldn't have actually cared, or maybe I would have. The things I mentioned, they matter a lot for me. I guess my desire, will always remain a desire.
I remember her name. Shiring it was, if I can remember properly. Shiring, is the name of a bird. Beautiful, tai na? I know, why I always fall in love with hill girls. Maybe because, they symbolise, the mountains to me. They, She, symbolises the mountains. Free. Pure. Still untouched by profits, demands, and supplies. Virgin. Yes, you've heard it right. Virgin.
And maybe that's why, I'll always stay away from her, cos, that way, she'll be virgin, to me, forever. Mountains are my home, a home, I'll never dare to settle down in. It's rather better to smell the air instead, searching for that sweet, cold, misty flavour. And again, when I'll find it again, maybe I'll sit down, and tell you all a bit more about my home.
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