Roads of the Northern Wilds

It was the start of late noon; me rolling a joint, beside a parked bike, on a culvert constructed over a nearly flowing, muddy but clear stream, it’s the water of forest, stretched throughout both sides of more than 50 kilometers of road, shadowed by the majestic greens of Dooars. It was a road that goes through the areas of other earthlings. Elephant, Spotted Deer, Leopard and Bison are a few of them. Silence. An ear, living in a crowded city finds this one thing fascinating. The sound of silence is deafening here. The air. You see, the light is misty in these places; it’s the mist of purity. In a few moments I will be off from this particular air, I‘ll be at Khunia crossroads, have a plate of steaming hot veg momo (which I’ll prefer over our beloved Maggi), but this joint rolling moment, this misty light, this air full of silence, piercing sound of some cricket nearby, this is the tranquility I missed for so long.

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