going home


A thirty minute stop on the way gave me enough time to sit by a small shop. I have been here before an year, when I last went home. Then, our bus broke down near here and this shop was all that was there around. The guy at the shop talked a lot. In ten minutes I felt like i had known him for long. He had told me about his little sister, how she would come running any minute then, and thus. Today, although I wasn't sure if he even remembered me after an year, I really wanted to go there, not just meet him and the little girl, but also for the lip-smacking sweets and pickles he kept.
It's been quite a long time since I felt so happy traveling. And I am going home after almost an year. Even as I left my beloved hostel room, a part of me felt really happy. The road home seemed to pour in a bliss. The narrow road, that wound around hills, had rocky walls on one side and steeped down on the other. The road, at many places could barely fit a small bus. Going down this road, I felt more like being in a circus act.
I never have seen her so beautiful, Munnar, the small, beautiful town with her high, cold hills covered in mist and snow. The mere sight of her was breathtaking. Following a month or more of rain, there was sunshine now. It was spring. The hills around were now full in lush green with the tender leaves of the tea plants. A small touch of sunlight and light snow hovering over the plantations, the huge rocks, hill sides, all covered in moss and some small flowers and orchids, tiny waterfalls every now and then appearing out of nowhere and disappearing, everything around had given the place a heavenly feel.I had set off on foot and then a bus and now I felt like I grew a pair of wings and was flying.

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