A night on the mountains with APa
On way to Merak... Many summers ago, one cold winter night, my father and I were taking rest under a huge rhododendron tree on our way to a nearby place called Merak. We made fire by collecting dried moss and broken branches. We had our dinner that was packed into Bangchung by mother in the morning. Both of us were tired due to a long day’s walking uphill. As we lay on the bare earth covered with dried leaves for warmth, gazing at the open night sky, I could hear the splashing sound of a small brook that ran nearby in the woods. My restless mind was wandering to areas as vast as the open sky. I could smell the refreshing aroma of fresh soil of the forest and would take a deep breath or two to rejoice my senses. There was a peaceful silence in the jungle minus the occasional howling of a pack of fox or a sudden gush of wind through the woods. Father was humming some old songs. I was watching the shooting stars fly from north to south and wonder where it must have fallen from