Walking through the Mysore Palace where history sleeps in all grandeur made my imagination soar high. The intricate carvings made from ivory spoke volumes of the great craftsmanship that was interred to earth along with the glorious age. I pictured myself stepping down the staircase dressed in regal splendour . The stone jaguars at four sides of the palace still fiercely guarded the area. I leant closer to listen to the walls wishing it could recount the tales which it witnessed of the processions, battles won and lost as well as lives it provided a shelter to. Boarding the bus we moved towards the cool region of Coorg after visiting Mysore Zoo and Summer Palace .
The bus sped ahead while mind raced witnessing the wide vistas that overtook outside my window . I gasped at the breath taking beauty while they still ran without a gap. “This is the kind of place I want to live” my soul sang .When fog embraced the hills the blood through my veins thrilled . The cold started to catch up to me and I cocooned into my jacket leaving my face to be teased by the air , who continued to play with my hair . I envy those who call such place a home where winter greets every year . Perhaps its because I come from a place where the season of delight is non existent.We visited The Golden Temple , a Bhuddist monastery when evening encroached the sky and lulled the sun to sleep.The muted zenith gave a new perspective to the ornate monastery . It was as if the grey clouds were waiting for us to get outside to open up and wet us with their tears. I remember the joy I experienced sitting in a cafe sipping steaming coffee after getting wet in the drizzle that caught us off guard.
Mud adorned my slippers ,my feet happily squelched through the dirt reliving childhood . I live in contrary ,grey for me is beauty , it brings out all the rest shades hiding behind a few jostling for attention. These little things replenished my body pulled down by travel . My phone constantly click – clicked greedily capturing these sights into memory. The roads that wound guarded by forests on both sides resplendent with beads of rain produced in me a cry of joy!
Packing up from Coorg we snaked down the bends of Wayanad that beckoned us with greenery tucked into her bosom that nourished many a wild animal . A place that fulfilled my wish to zip line over a river that took the breath out of me . Finally I ticked zip lining out of my bucket list. I trembled at the thought of flying yet when I did it did not last long . I clung for life at the rope that dragged me along the trail . I shouted at the top of my lungs and adrenaline coursed through my veins . Homeward bound weary from the journey my mind bubbled up with ideas to bring to life through my finger tips.
I wish to create such beauty , simple and poignant. The writer in me feasted on the fodder that nature generously bestowed in the form of sights that enticed me and lent me rooted to the spot despite being at home hundreds of miles away.
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