Ziro, in Spring.

Myoko festival was coming to an end. One more ritual ‘moreh éha la’ was yet to be performed in a community forest to give thanks to the God of the Forest for endowing with rich resources.

A band of brothers set out on such journey to proffer their deference. And I was a part of the family.

As soon as we passed by pine grove, the fragrance of pines tingle our nostrils. And there were beds of infinitesimal wild flowers for our eyes. And each tiny flower was no longer than 3-5mm in diameters. I took shots after shots until the Li-ion was totally exhausted.

We mounted a few hills. When we were surrounded by many more hills, a member of the family finally announced the end of our journey. We were encircled by the splendors of spring, and it reduced me to silence.

. . . . . . 

Yes, I am hopelessly in love with the wonder and beauty of nature.

Calls of the wild

A day before, rain showered down on the valley. It had moistened the dusty roads. It had washed away all the dirt from the leaves. Finally the forest had come to life again. It flourishes with all the unfathomable colors.

I looked at the emerald hills and got lost. My deep emotion corresponds equally with the beckoning of forest. I asked myself,” What am I doing here in cubicle?” I was not tied up. I was free to tramp for a day in the wilderness (sic) – under the thick canopy of trees, in the midst of ferns.

As I approached their turf, a dash of purplish violet welcomed me and it accompanied me on my trail. Even the skies seemed to be bathed in violet, though the dark clouds were rapidly advancing to fill the entire expanse.

For four hours I walked, listen to the rhymes of brook and tried to capture the details of undergrowth.

In the forest, day really turns to dusk quite quickly. I speed up my pace to get back to the world of oafish and illogical chaos.