dated:11th July,2009
You could call it the Paradise or Eden's garden browsed by Dian's fawns, Palampur nestling quietly and serenely in the midst of the lofty Himalayas is truly beautiful. A far cry from the hot and sultry climate of Delhi, the sojourn to the Himalayas was a must needed escape. The roads snaking through the mountains comes with equal thrills and the pump of adrenaline. What most touched me was the languid pace of life and the simplicity struck on the multitude of faces. The most authentic thing to watch out for are not the pines and the cones jutting out but the innumerable ethnic settlements which you cross while traversing the length and breadth of the landscape.
Cradling on the lap of Himalayas these humble prevalence of humanity, so untouched by the pace of modernity is simply mesmerising .In fact it is not surprising if you step into a temporary state of unconsciousness where your mind drifts away to oblivion , trying to imagine their way of life, their survival against the harsh ravages of nature, the ambiance inside their humble wooden houses, the food probably steaming over the indigenous "chulhas", the children spilling around the household hopping up and down playing with some broken pots, the men probably high up in the wild probably lazing away their time looking up at the sky with their "biris" stuck between their lips oblivious to the occasional passage of a truck or a bus. I wonder if they ever happen to travel by a motor car which would take them to their place of dreams , lights, people and ........probably unleash emancipation into their mundane lives.
You could call it the Paradise or Eden's garden browsed by Dian's fawns, Palampur nestling quietly and serenely in the midst of the lofty Himalayas is truly beautiful. A far cry from the hot and sultry climate of Delhi, the sojourn to the Himalayas was a must needed escape. The roads snaking through the mountains comes with equal thrills and the pump of adrenaline. What most touched me was the languid pace of life and the simplicity struck on the multitude of faces. The most authentic thing to watch out for are not the pines and the cones jutting out but the innumerable ethnic settlements which you cross while traversing the length and breadth of the landscape.
Cradling on the lap of Himalayas these humble prevalence of humanity, so untouched by the pace of modernity is simply mesmerising .In fact it is not surprising if you step into a temporary state of unconsciousness where your mind drifts away to oblivion , trying to imagine their way of life, their survival against the harsh ravages of nature, the ambiance inside their humble wooden houses, the food probably steaming over the indigenous "chulhas", the children spilling around the household hopping up and down playing with some broken pots, the men probably high up in the wild probably lazing away their time looking up at the sky with their "biris" stuck between their lips oblivious to the occasional passage of a truck or a bus. I wonder if they ever happen to travel by a motor car which would take them to their place of dreams , lights, people and ........probably unleash emancipation into their mundane lives.
