#2 : NOTES FROM DALHOUSIE
A clear day is all I wait for after rains. And a few rays of the sun at such a time at Dalhousie would pull you out of your coop. Once they arrive, the monsoons! Misty evenings, white sky, new insects arrive by default. And no wonder why we find all the nearby Punjabis travelling to here during scorching summers. Its a cold charm.
"The Pouring Sun...Blazing Summers...All Despite...Dalhousie is respite!"
A shower in the early morning with sun peeping by the noon, a white sky follows in the evening for a pleasant walk into the misty road where everything wet succumbs to the dark silent night as if no sign of life till the death of the moon.
I walk. Out at 6:45 evening. Or perhaps 7. Its the time of the day I wait for and pray it doesn't rain. Mostly it rains near and about the time if it does so I am almost saved. Call it a near miss, my evening walk and the unpredictable rains. Its the gush of people at the Subhash Chowk on the way. That fellow roasting corns on coals must have a good earning everyday to suffice for the bread for his family and him. His wife does it along. I look straight though as I walk. But some things just fall into your way. I remain alert and keep on moving my eyes right and left, catching tales as I move. It was wholly a matter of surprise for this tourist family walking ahead when one of the ladies offered a piece of bread to that little monkey and within seconds the monkey mania showed up. It was obvious and certain. But not for the lady who kept wondering where do they came from all of a sudden in this jungle. Couples! Old and young. Strolling by. Hand in hand. New families with little kids running wild on the broken roads where to one side rises the hill plus hotels and to the other, a green gorge with garbage. Because every good has its bad side.
There are a few elder people who daily cross my way. Aspirants of walking over evenings. A walk from Subhash Chowk to Gandhi Chowk (or General Post Office to be more precise) is all which Dalhousie gets wrapped up in. Some Himachali who is a shareholder of greenary by birth might simply say there is nothing much in here. But I say there is myst and charm still so intact in this part of the state. Nights here can only be disturbed by a real downpour against this wooden trussed roof just as now.
A night shower! Well! Lemme predict. Enough of cryings till the afternoon. But as the evening would proceed, I would be out. Would I?
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