My Little Paradise
The little known village is in a little known lap of the Himalayas. It is called Nunoori Behli, the local pronunciation for Nunoor Valley. Sainj, a tributary to the Beas flows right in front of my land. Plum , Almond and Apple grow wild here, littering the ground. The local neighbors are simple people. Living in raised wooden homes that creek even under the lightest feet. The sun comes up from behind the thick, lush foliage, pouring drops of radiance over this valley of slow life contrasted against the rush of the river. The water is pure, drinkable straight from fast river, sweet to taste.
The short way to reach is a wooden rope-bridge that gets washed away every few years because of flooding. When the bridge is not there, the walk is about 4 kilometers. 4 kilometers of blissful strolling on foot-wide meandering paths drawn by the erasable pencils of local feet.
There is peace here. My idea of paradise. We own a small piece of land. Some day I'll build a small home here, for the times when nothing but solitude gives solace.