A drive through the meandering hill roads, flanked by these tall trees and their shedded leaves all around, making you feel like you have entered a desi version of Enid Blyton's whispering willows. The drive goes into and past this forest quiet and enters the flat foothills which opens out into a vast fertile plain with fields of golden wheat till the eyes can see..
Nature never ceases to act as a calming balm for the sore soul.. This little village, at the border of two states, miles and miles away from humankind, away from the politics, away from any sort of interference.. it felt as though it is calling out to me..
I wonder if this can be the post retirement life? A piece of land, right here, to build a home on, to subsist here from farming this land and to spend the rest of my time working with people who need help and I maybe able to assist.. like the women and kids who keep coming to me every other day, with stories that depress me no end but I have to keep a control over my emotions and then try to find a way to take care of them as best as I can..
I can do that all the time, without the other irritants which have to be catered to today.. that and the lack of any hospital close by would be such a wonderful way to die - a life lived with meaning and contribution for the lesser privileged, without tests and tubes, passing on like my grandmother did..
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