An Ode to hills

''And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.''

Years back, while reading a poem by W.B. Yeats these lines had got imprinted on my mind. Thoughts that one treasures, do make an appearance from time to time. Little did I know that these soothing lines were playing hide and seek in my subliminal. The first sight of the mountains, the first daft of the fresh breeze from hills spilled all the sweet memories from the past.

Peace came to me, slowly and coyly like a newly wed damsel. On my way uphill to mussorie, I sat motionless and gaped at the beauty that is nature. My eyes spread out in wonder to capture the silent dance of colour and light on the mighty mountains. How had such heaps of soil risen up to accomodate the ever floating clouds? The sound of our old ambassador gurgled and echoed in the valley. The other noise being the chirruping of unknown birds and the faint music of insects in the thickets.