Winter Trip to the Village

The train stopped in the small station only for two minutes. So there was a rush near the gate. Men and women dressed in fluffy jackets, caps, mufflers and shawls huddled together near the train door along with their suitcases. Their faces showing anxiety to get down within the stipulated time.

When we landed , a dense fog covered the area, and it was difficult to see one's own hands. The thick mist made the little station more gloomy in the chilly weather.

There was no lifts, so the passengers dragged their luggage and struggled on the stairs of the overbridge.

The smoke from the nearby 

tea stall cut through the haze .

The small auto rushed through the narrow lanes loaded with people and baggage.

From here and there a truck was seen coming in front , through the mist. The skillful auto driver would turn his small vehicle in a split of a second, unfazed and kept going over the bumpy road.

The chilly wind blew more powerfully in the village surrounded by trees. On the bare skin it felt like the flickering tongue of a snake licking , before biting its fangs.

The cold was unbearable and here and there we saw people completely covered in thick woolen blankets , sitting near a small fire lit with dried branches.

The icy cool water was too cold to touch or to drink. The bare mud floors felt like a sheet of frozen ice.

Every little hut would have a small earthen oven where fire was lighted. The old wrinkled grannies would crowd around the fire, warming their wrinkled hands and feet in the warmth of the fire, sipping piping hot teas in little steel glasses, and chatting.

If you dislike cauliflower then it will be very difficult for you to survive in an Indian village in the winter.

In the afternoon, the village kids were too excited to arrange for a picnic, under the mango tree.

The place beneath the tree was cleaned and a mat was placed. A small earthen oven was made, where wooden sticks were heaped and lighted. Hot puffy puris were fried in oil in an old metal pan. After that

a spicy curry of cauliflower and potatoes was cooked. Everyone brought plates from their home and relished the meal with some molasses.  Their runny noses, worn out socks and old sweaters were compensated with happy smiles and the content in small things.

The cold wind, the chilly weather, had a toll on our health too.

But strangely enough it boosted our appetite.

In the evenings we munched on freshly fried Samosas and pakodas from the small village stalls.

With mixed feelings we came back to our home in the cities, enriching our memories with a gamut of new experiences.