Wilderness in the hills

Summer heat always brought vacations along with it. Vacation would mean going to the village and taking the warmth and heat there. But for now these hillocks would offer us a temporary peep into the long visited and cherished village.

Wandering in the wilderness, at the onset of summer would be quite an experience. The summer mornings are neither too hot nor too cold, they are enjoyable. The grass is all pallid,lifeless and unkempt. But the grass offers a fine grip to hold on to when there are some steep slopes. I try to break a twig, just to toss it around while walking. The plant is not dry-brittle. It is full of sap and energy and ofcourse longing for the monsoon in it's heart. Just like us.

We hear both the low and shrill calls of the birds passing messages to their kith and kin. We kept to the shade of the hills while walking. This made us escape the heat which was rising slowly. The pale grass now glittered like an yellow mine of ornamental gold. There were violet Daturas here and there. Defying the dry background some palnts had flowers and tender leaves, as if attracting the monsoons to them first.

Some of the birds that rarely visited the concrete jungle had their nests in the fissures in these hills. They bobbed the heads out of their caves and looked down at the strange visitors. We settled on a rock near the foot of the cliff and sat there. Absolute stillness was defined here. The place was covered with the hill on the three sides. We were so away from the noises of the civilization and yet so near to it. It was almost as if a little child had found a new place to hide. We sat there observing the cliff, it's scales, dried algae, water marks and the birds which occasionally flew in and out of their caves. It looked like the time just stood still in that little hide out. I wondered how would it be during monsoons. Lush green probably.

The shade, silence and the lullaby of the birds almost left me sleepy. Each time I observed the same part of rock it looked different. It formed a different shape. There was nothing static to the cliff, it was as dynamic as a movie. Each time offering a different image of itself. I could sit there till dusk to just capture the whole performance there. So silent and so static yet evoking so much attention, as if the stillness was just to attract me to it.

I felt there were so many stories in these pure,naked hills. So often they are covered with green, a veil probably, which in its beauty hid so many faces.