There, Oh my friend!
Where the tweeting of varied birds at the crack of dawn, wake you up from slumber,
Where the early-morning breeze
brings with it, mild aroma of areca blooms,
Where the solitary ‘Whistling
Schoolboy’ whistles as if he is indeed one,
Where the ascending air brings with
it, fragrances of sandalwood and camphor,
Where a thought runs free with no
white noise disturbing its flow,
Where the chirpy Bulbuls bathing in
the nearby puddle, is a sight to see, while having one’s evening tea,
Where the sound of the holy conch saves
you from getting lost in the woods,
Where the descending rainwater
gathers on a giant plateau, to gush down into a misty waterfall,
Where the setting sun reminds you
of the decades of sacrifices of the bygones,
Where the Mother nature leaves you in awe with yet another magic trick!
There, Oh my friend,
