Chori Malai Bhagi Bhagi Nasatau
He said he has fallen quite a few times there. It was steep, and if you don't have a good hold of yourself, you are gone for good. It's beautiful though. The hills surround everything as if they are hugging and getting hold of the people there. The river sounds like a harmonica all over. No kind of alarm would ever make it to the level of warmth, welcome, and morning that village has. It will always be hard to see your father grow old. What feels harsh is that there will always be a version of him that I will never see. The blood, the adrenaline I have in my 20s, that old man probably had the same. He probably dreamt big too, looking at those hills with all the possibilities his future held. I sometimes wonder if this is the future he dreamt of having, and if not, how hard it must be to live with it. But who am I to make a verdict? He says he's living the dream, and I couldn't agree more. From where he belonged, the land he grew up on, to the land where I am today, is ...
