Bhutan was a calling strong, ever since I gazed with childlike awe at the huge mud splattered toyota cruisers that'd rumble through guwahati's rutted roads. the tragic city paved with putrid dumps and remnants of a revolution gone terribly wrong. (military might revolutionary trite). \flashback/ the windows rattled and i felt the tremors of my first bomb blast. never got to see the blood and gore; all curtained off with bright blue tarpaulin sheets. being a child in the city was no romantic dream. thank god for granda and may god bless his rigid soul. he lived next door in the scotland of the east. shillong was next base for my life to unfold. but the seed of bhutan was in my soul the day i met a man who stepped out of the massive mud splattered rumbling being that smelt of mountains and misty winding roads and rang our doorbell wearing a funny red dress.
of dreams that die hard and pop up in your sleep. the child in me grew, the desire remained; to see the land of beautiful muddy jeeps and smiley red faced weather blown men who wore dresses that ended at the knees. i had to go. a child all grown now with some pennies aside. and company i'll forever treasure.
i never told you so, but there was this arcane delight, tapered down perhaps, by gallons of golden eagle and tiger beer. it was a mad mad feeling of a star in my fist. one wistful longing down. time to progress. methinks mongolia next.
perched up there looking down on the tiger's nest i got a shot of the rainbow flag leading away to somewhere beyond. while you may snigger at my prose that reeks of whimsy frail, i long to pass through the rainbow flag. there shall be soon...an inevitable return.