Representative image
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My passion for spending my entire life in a quiet and serene atmosphere, away from the hustle and bustle of city life, remains a dream to date. I am completely aware that my ambition is far from reality, given life’s practical aspects; I feel no wrongdoing in fostering a desire, at least.
The very thought of being amidst nature, with lush greenery all around, a pool on the periphery, and the lilting sounds of bells tied to cattle as they return home a little before dusk and birds chirping—the gentle evening breeze, with no motor vehicles polluting the environs—is in itself a thrill. I believe it is exhilarating for one and all. The very thought exudes solace and invigorates our mind and body.
An evening visit to an ancient temple in a calm locale or spending some time in the cowshed (if you have one), gently massaging the bovine’s velvety back, playing with its calves, etc., makes us feel we are one with Mother Nature.
I have no doubt that present-day technologies have their benefits, but putting them aside for a while to enjoy nature’s bounty is bliss, is it not?
This apart, the wondrous nature enthralls one no end, be it a hilly slope, roaring waterfalls, trekking over a valley, a slow walk along the riverbank,
a boat ride, a visit to the cave temples—the list goes on.
A sneak peek into nature’s strikingly beautiful locales enchants nature lovers. Of course, one needs to be a naturalist to enjoy all these. Only then will we get to know the vastness of our bountiful nature and enjoy God’s gift.
Besides this reverie, I occasionally recall my childhood six decades ago, when we used to frequent our ancestral house in a remote village every summer (from the nearby town where we stayed for our schooling). Bullock carts being the only mode of transportation then, we used to pack all our things and eagerly wait for the cart’s arrival from the village. No mobiles, no TV then, except a radio that took almost two minutes to heat up), yet it was indeed a pleasure spending time with our paternal grandfather.
It was a routine for him to take all his grandchildren, that’s us, to the paddy fields and nearby gardens (which had a small pool) every day. Perhaps, he wanted us to personally count our blessings, without which we couldn’t live.
In the evenings, we were asked to gather in groups in the open space within the 16-pillared tiled house to listen to the stories from the Ramayana and Mahabharata. The session ended with a discussion on the moral of the story. Later, we would sit down for a sumptuous dinner, but not before a fight among ourselves for a comfortable place—typical of a large household. It is hard to believe we lived such simple but enriched lives