That morning was exceptionally beautiful. The air was clean and cool. There was plenty of greenery everywhere. Birds, roosters and insects made a variety of melodious sounds. Smoke was arising from some homes. The morning sun was rising from behind the tall mountains above the village, turning fresh morning dew on the grass blades into beautiful puffs of water vapors. On the huge wild fig trees, fresh and tender leaflets were sprouting. Beneath flat stones, new grasses were beginning to grow. Migratory birds from the Tibetan plateaus were singing songs laden with deep message.
Gradually, as the morning blossomed into a beautiful day, I could hear people humming good old songs. The kind of songs that bring back vivid memories of times long gone and people long forgotten. I was filled with pure joy to behold life progressing so harmoniously and peacefully in this beautiful little village. Far away from the touch of busy city life and hustle bustle of the twenty first century, people of this village seemed to be living back in time. Every single people I met had a humble smile and a sincere greeting from the heart to offer, opening up a beautiful day.
When I went back home from the morning walk, I felt like I have meditated for some time. The feeling of peace and joy and tranquility was so overwhelming. The morning air felt like medicated fresh air. The beautiful scenarios felt like a series of fantasy world experiences. Back home, sitting on an old wooden chair, I sip a cup of salted black tea made by my mother. And in my mind, I am almost going crazy cos of love, peace, and happiness that this place has to offer to me. And I close my eyes and thank God once again, that I'm a Country boy.