It was monsoon. 'Looking for the rainbow' in the cloudy sky, we used to play and dance under the old 'cherry tree' till we saw Granny pacing towards us, carrying her favorite 'blue umbrella', calling out our names. And we could hear her voice merging with the rhythmic chattering of the 'rain in the mountains'.
On some lucky days, while on our way to our most cherished finding, 'the hidden pool', we would discover a 'lone fox dancing' as if it were a blue winged peacock, full of irresistible grace. And that's how we grew up, chasing smiles in those 'unhurried tales', and living in the nature's 'room of many colours'
As the 'dust on the mountains' settled, we found ourselves surrounded by towering buildings and estranged faces. The 'roads to Mussoorie' don't seem so inviting now, and as the raindrops embrace my car's windshield, I feel I'm 'falling in love again' with this lingering nostalgia that takes me back to the happiest days of my life!