House on the hills

2How desperately I want a house on the hills. Being a city dweller, staying amongst the concrete jungles in pint sized houses with exorbitant prices and rent , on top of that monthly installments , i truly realise the significance of houses on the hills.

A small house with a big balcony and wide windows, where there are wide screens of  nature and not the multiplexes .  The magnificent view with chirpy birds and hustling leaves on the ground. The squirrels and mynas play takes over the computer games. The fresh and chilly breeze replaces all the airconditioners . 

The fireplace with burning logs of wood in the winters does not adds on to smog but warmth of cosy confines of the hill house.

The muddy rocky undiscovered paths leading to the house, replacement to all gyms, treadmills and walking plazas. Elevators do not exist here, because young or old, all are pedestrians . 

People here are still untouched by junk food or beverages, as the green vegetables grown outside the house with natural fertiliser of cowdung ,does not require green houses or chemicals and chilled water from the ancient Wells bars the entry of water coolers.

No dengue or chickegunia can  ever spread it’s pangs as cowdung cakes acts as deterrent to such deadly diseases. No mosquito repellent creams or machines are required . 

The small hill house has acres of land surrounding it, where man and beast live in harmony.

The ancestral deities reside there and make their presence felt with chiming bells ,  the sound of which echoes across the hills.

The mighty deodar and pine houses  the numerous other tiny beings in its branches . During winters the mighty deodars appear like the snowman with a blanket of snow  over them.

The star studded skies give birth to many interesting stories as we lie on the cot on our terrace  . The gentle moonlight falling on the rooftop of the hill house  overshadows all the lampposts and streetlights of the city.

As the children sit in the porch soaking the winter sun, they have the pickle in the jars to accompany them.

The fragrance of the ghee emanating from the kitchen attracts many visitors, who sit for hours sipping hot tea and telling stories of the neighbouring houses ,  it is then we realise that chatting on our mobiles and phones is useless, the real conversation takes place here, with the people and the nature.

The  hill house is witness to coming and going of many generations ,  who spent their precious years in the lap of this house. It still stands rock solid, with numerous stories in its folds and every nook and corner.

But now for years why does it lie in neglect, is it because no one comes here now, or it has lost its charm. May be it could not keep pace with changing times, could not provide or fulfill the ever changing human greed, in want of more.

But now I want to get back here, but i do not want to rebuild it, for my selfish interests, I don’t want a modular kitchen with electric chimneys, i don’t  want the social sites,  but only the social connections.i do not want the compound walls, I am safe and secure from the prying eyes here. 

I want to run away from the suffocation of the city, sit in peace on a riverside, watch the grazing cows, unlike  the ones in the city surviving on polythene . 

Leopards and tigers roam free in the jungle, so the zoos do not exist here.

Here man and animals live in harmony and coexist  ,  as the house on the hills watches over.

I am ready to settle here, away from humdrum of noisy polluted cities but then,  when I turn around, the hill house stands in the ruins, all neglected ,  it would be a herculean task to repair it and now it has no old company of trees,birds , rivers or animals. The neighbouring hills have been cut open to make more houses and roads. To please the tourists with  the facility of electricity and water supply, the gushing streams of water lie tattered with garbage.

Amidst all this my hill house still stands but in much more inferior state, but do not worry my new abode, i will  accept you the way you are, your originalty is your strength, it holds in it my childhood.Yes the house on the hills has memories of my growing years embedded in it, where I want go back, again. It has been a shelter to me, it’s roof has always protected me.

So here I’m again to stay with my house on the hills….


learn and live :) I like to keep things simple and easy and that is what my writings reflect. A gypsy at heart my six year old keeps me leashed. I'm a blogger @mycityforkids, @womensweb,@yourstoryclub, @unboxedwriters,@polkasocial, @blogadda