Letter From McLeodganj

Dear L,

The rest of the gang is sleeping... physically tired of exploring Mcleodganj the entire day. I am sitting outside my hotel room from where I can see the silhouettes of mountains and lights suggesting life running through them. However, I cannot see the white mountain. The one covered with snow...that was till this evening standing tall behind the dark mountain. I call it the mountain of peace.

It’s amusing how we look for peace and happiness in the Mcleodganjs of the world. Settled far away from the hustle & bustle of the big cities we live in, we assume life is peaceful, happy and simple here. The cab driver we met today smirked when he heard this and told us his story. Equally complex, equally hard…perhaps more painful than our stories that suffocate us in the big city.

We at least have the hills to run to. What are we crying about? What are we cribbing for? Only for the White Mountain we all can't see because of the darkness in our minds. It’s within and hence most difficult to find.

Wish you happiness n peace always.



D said...

Welcome back...more power to your thoughts. I have lost the art of writing but eager to read more of your musings...cheers.

Purva said...

Thanks Dheeraj...why have you stopped blogging?

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