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Weekend Musings
‘Sir, I need to see your vaccine passport.’ The gentleman in the blue navy uniform at the customs and immigration desk paused while going through his passport.
The postcard carried no return address. Just a picture of a hilly town beside which was printed Champhai, Mizoram…as if she dared him to come and find her.
‘I suppose I need to take that chance and cross over.’ Standing at the edge of the river he kicked pebbles into the water. The mountain ranges of Myanmar loomed in the far distance. Blue and grey in the evening sky they looked alluring and menacing at the same time.
The window panes were wet from the early morning dew. As he looked out he realized that the heavy mist made it difficult to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. Still, he wished to be outside. Last night again he had trouble sleeping; despite the liberal dose of 18-year Scotch fortified with a Restyl. He finally had to cry himself to sleep.
In the verdant hills of Munnar, he had his epiphany. Perched atop the Anamudi hills he could visualize the looming mountain peaks at a distance and the expansive valley below, the slopes green with tea leaves.