Leaves are falling all around and I intuitively know its time I was on my way; just this time when the year starts to show its dull future. For me its an inception. All Gorkhas relate to it as being something forthcoming as everything else demotes automatically to a state of oblivion. The utmost priority being the foreseeable fact that the time is now to head home.
A celebration of health, humor, cuisine and stories since we last met has the ace- The Prime!
The countdown to my journey seems to be an eternity.
As the train/plane/bus jams its finale at Siliguri, the mountains welcome with its tenderness and trust for her children who've been away leading the legacy of our hills. Its a mother's love; only that which knows no division. The scent of celebrations amidst the sunny days, clear skies and cold nights. Its The High!
It means a lot! Its a forest fire not just a cigarette break.
And for those who couldn't make it this time of the year- If your hearts be broken for the "exile" which was too mistimed, I hope it brings good to you for the moral coils of the festivals may have missed you but you were never bereft of the love and memories we make during this time of the year.
HAPPY DASHAIN HAII SABAILAIII
दशै आयो
खाँउला पिँउला ll
[In Pic: Jorebunglow on the way to Darjeeling]
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