journey's blog

Dadi sat in the sun, watching Ratan and Jai walk off up the valley and disappear over the hill. She was feeling restless, and decided to go to her favourite spot near the stream to sit. She walked along the cowdung covered track to the stream.

The stream was a meeting point for the ladies of the village. A common working area, where washing utensils, clothes and even having baths was less a chore for the company. No one was there. Of course, the filling of water was done, and the women were busy with the morning cooking and cleaning, before they would come to the stream for the washing.

I'm finally beginning to write a story that has been playing on my mind for a very long time. Who knows, if it goes well, I might make a book out of it.

There was a village in a remote corner of the Himalaya. A truly blessed land surrounded by mountains, high altitude pastures and a sparkling stream that provided crystal clear and refreshingly cold water to the cluster of stone and wood homes that was the village Tiring.