Monday, 25 May 2009


We are in the green coolness of Mussoorie.

At times the stillness is so thick, you can cut it with a knife.

It is good to be quiet, and allow the gentle rustling of the oak leaves outsides to filter with the muffled voices of the kids with their 'Oma' in the kitchen.

Books. Shelves of them. Patiently waiting to be read.

Songs in the night. Games around the dining room table. The power going off and seeing the immense spread of glittering diamonds that are the Dehra Dun lights in the darkness of a rain-washed darkness.

The good book says that the righteous shall lack no good thing. We certainly do not lack. What mercy and grace are ours. Tangible. Words spoken in love. Real.

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