Mountain dreams

Som cursed as he hit his head on the headboard. He woke up startled by the commotion caused by Hitler outside. Sona was still sleeping with a calmness on her face. He gingerly got up and looked for his shawl. It was a black shawl with yellow threadwork on it - his favorite. Wasn't very useful though in defending against the chill in the air brought by the bright November morning. His nose felt choked and throat groggy. Som blinked his eyes trying to adjust them for the bright blue sky visible from the window by the side of his bed. "Damn" he said; he had forgotten to close the window in the night and the cold had creeped in; that would explain his sore throat. Forgetfullness was his life-long companion. He put on his flip-flops and wrapped the shawl over his crumpled kurta.

As Som walked out to the porch, the proud black grey mountains revealed their sunny glory. His eyes slowly swept across the hills, the green covers and the intermittent matchbox houses on the hillside all the way down to the Tikri lake. The narrow road outside his gate wound down like a light-brown line made on a grey backdrop. He could hear the bells ringing from the old temple nearby. The bell on the postman's cycle was ringing too; his neighbour who was getting ready to leave for work. Som felt the quiet comfort which comes from watching others rushing to work and you know that you don't have to. He looked around his small garden; the hedges against the fence of his cottege had grown quite a bit. He resolved that he'll definitely trim them today; as he had been resolving for last few weeks.

Not giving a damn about this nice morning, Hitler was chasing Ramsingh. Hitler was Som's big furry moutain dog. Hitler's arch enemy Ramsingh was a notorious garden squirrel. It approached Hitler's den at every opportunity and tried to steal nibbles from Hitler's food. This infuriated Hitler and consequently such chases were frequent. "Hitler", Som barked at the dog. Hitler stopped in his tracks, jumped and rushed back towards him. Trying to adjust his shawl vis-a-vis Hitler's vigurous and enthusiastic licking of his face, Som settled in his chair to soak in the morning Sun. He rubbed his palms together trying to infuse some warmth in them - he'll make tea in a while.