“April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.”
TS Eliot – The Wasteland
As new life sprouts and spreads, Spring is here and winter has receded into hibernation. With the hills bustling with life…
‘April is again the cruelest month.’
Yes! It’s that time of the year when the renewal, fertility and fecundity gives way to miracles of nature.
Amidst all this hope, regeneration and revival of life, long solitary walks along lonely trails makes one all nostalgic as the season advances.
A kaleidoscope of emotions overcomes me ,
I desperately want to soak all the familiar sights and sounds of the times gone by
That memory has for years stored in cherished moments, April unlocks them again
All images begin to float around, capturing all hues and shades of Spring
This pristine and salubrious station perched on a hill, truly exuding an old world charm , is languidly waking up from the deep slumber and now the bounties of nature nonchalantly ‘open up’ .
The memories of short yet sweet association with this place are still so crunchy fresh in the mind as the month of April further unfolds.
Like a bird returning to its nesting site, revisiting places after a long gap can be cathartic , similarly I crave to reconnect with the times gone by.
The urge to reconnect has me desperate to take those forbidden paths again
Fondly still remember those flickering lights of the sparsely located hill houses, under moonlit skies, the whiff of pine trees at every turn of serpentine roads make you soar
April again has me travel back through time. I desperately yearn and crave to spent time amongst those dappled trees, in placid and calm environs, a gentle breeze blowing through my hair. The Wasteland now again buzzes with life and bounces back to a new awakening
A place frozen in history – be it the small shops in the market, British cemeteries, the Cellular jail once visited by Mahatma Gandhi, all caught in the time warp
An Army cantonments of days gone by, that derived it’s name from ‘Daag-i-Shahi’, meaning the ‘Royal Mark’.
A well organised, clean and green place but not as happening as it’s nearby, yet distant cousins.
Miles apart from congested and noisy neighbours
Dagshai has been spared from disaster tourism and revenge tourists
A place with less clutter but more of a nurturer that contributes towards nature’s bounty
This place has witnessed history unfold, it still retains the British Era aura
The short yet sweet association with this place is embedded in my memories…for a lifetime
The blossoming month is now ready to spill the beans
I still savour those solitary lazy April walks in the salubrious climate of this quaint hill station.
“The ache of revisiting places long left , lives in all of us”
April only aggravates it further
Anjali, with a masters in English is a teacher on a sabbatical, loves travelling and spending time in the lap of nature, observing its bounties and being thankful to the hills.