Page 77 - January 2021
P. 77

Bagori, having some errands to run at her home. Incredible it seemed for
             someone  so  delicate  to  be  all  alone  in  a  lonely  village.  She  gestured  me
             inside with a friendly nod and I followed without qualms. I had a mind to see
             what  these  homes  looked  like  from  the  inside.  With  the  small  doors  and
             little pieces of furniture, it resembled a dollhouse. They believed the doors
             had to be small to wade off spirits of deceased ancestors from entering the
             house. It had a small hearth where the kitchen fire burnt and lovely incense
             smell wafted out of the little rooms.

             We  did  not  speak  much  as  I  was  unsure  of  the  language  of
             communication. All the while, I looked around with a child-like wonder as I
             had  seldom  seen  something  so  immaculate  and  beautiful.  Maybe  it  was
             the  lack  of  dirt  and  grime  up  in  this  altitude  that  was  so  conspicuous.
             While  bidding  goodbye  she  handed  me  a  small  sack,  and  for  some
             unknown reason I found it hard to refuse.  I found it was full of bright red
             and succulent Himalayan apples. It was their custom to make an offering
             to the leaving guest. I embraced her in a warm hug.

             What  the  villagers  said  about  Ringali  Devi  was  true  …  she  fulfilled  the
             wishes of whoever visited her with an open mind … she just fulfilled my
             cravings for large succulent Himalayan apples.

        litterateur                            7                                        january 2021
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