Gaurav Dixit

The hills were dead silent with occasional laughter and cries of ancestors of the HOMO SAPIENS. These brave hearts have made tall and fragile pine and deodar trees their play grounds. They dare to walk on high tension electric wires and water pipes at a height good enough to claim your life, if you lose your balance. They generally reside in abandoned homes, towering trees and earn their living by robbing from homes and climbing tall trees eating seeds and fruits. They were the sole owners of these lands encroached by humans. Their voices might be a welcome to us and an agreement to live peacefully with them or they might be planning a revolution against us or maybe they have an attitude that they don’t care. Hills grow quieter as you glide down the day. Sky turns darker as sun takes your leave. You keep filling your lungs with the fresh air just to make sure that serene natural air reaches even to the last ruptured alveoli of your smoke and pollution damaged lungs. The mist is the best treat that you can give to your eyes next to actually snowing.