The Apple trees stand on the edges of the hills ,bare naked and dancing. They will sprout leaves, flowers,fruit by June till Oct.
The peaches have only young leaves and pink flowers. It will be two or three months before there will be fruit .
The women have Apple cheeks. They have baskets on their backs fresh with grass. When it is Apple time their backs shall have red ripe apples.
For now we have two pretty girls near fruits engaged in conversation.They were not camera shy.
The pines are everywhere in the snow hills. They are covered with a wheat flour of ice. The sun comes and laughs their snow flour off, making them green again.
So they always pine for the sun.
Dogs in the Himalayas
On the shaky bridge the friendly dog sniffs our pant-leg. No, it is not about to bite it.
It is just extending a snout of friendship. Together we shake on this rickety bridge ,it seems to say.
In the Himalayas the dogs are large and furry. But they bark all the same, when a new dog enters their territory.
You go up the carved steps of the mountains and reach a holiday home. A home that is no holiday, with wind and storm blowing on the windows.
You have Dalhousie’s old ghost rattling the doors. He was the one who lapsed native kingdoms. Until his own empire lapsed.
In the mountains the rivers come down as heaven’s snow. They flow through the boulders making such deep gorges that we turn giddy looking down.
The boulders in the hills sometimes feel the need for autonomy .Aided by a reactionary rain they loose themselves and crash-land on the mountain roads.
Apple trees delicately hang on to the edges of cliffs. Like houses, brightly painted, their roofs of green tin sheets, their walls of wood and stone.
Apple trees stand bereft of their leaves. They will grow them by June .By October ,their branches will be laden with fruit.
For a mere Rs.10, you can hold the rabbit. Sort of .Get yourself photographed holding the rabbit. Rabbits are a cute loveliness like the snows on the top of the hills. It is like getting yourself photographed hurling fistfuls of snow. It is such cute.
Horses and crows
In the deep snows horses take us to the higher echelons. We are not big shots and we only want to see our phallus God rising from snow. The horses have hoofs that carefully negotiate snow and mud.
The horse’s masters urge them on. If they are wayward they hurl filthy abuses at them. Horses somehow understand . They are hurt if the masters call their parents horses of questionable morals. And their moms unchaste and their dads fornicators. They protest instantly by poop droppings.
The crows in the Himalayas are fat and their cries are hoarse caws, so different from their cousins from our daily coast. But they sit on electric wires just like their cousins in the plains do. Against the white of the snows they shine darkly. They may not take to the rice balls we offer to our dead every year. But we have not verified this against the white purity of the snows.