Innocents Abroad

You know what the problem is with these mountains? They fill you with an insatiable curiosity to know what's there beyond the next bend. The deeper you venture into the folds of the hills, the greater is that urgency. So yesterday afternoon, we took a drive deep into the hills behind my home, up on a road that we had never yet taken. It meandered up and up, past scraggly lantana covered slopes, past pine groves that looked like giant broccoli gardens from afar, past dried river beds and brownish sides of mountains lining the road. It surprised me that people actually lived at these remote heights and that there were numerous little villages tucked into the mountain bends and hanging on its precipitous slopes. At one of these villages, our car came across four (or maybe five) little boys, about four feet (give or take a few inches) playing on the road. The moment they spotted the car, one of them ran deliberately across the road, as if daring us to run him down. Nothing surprising that, as we all know what little devils boys are. I didn't give it a second thought, because Other Half is an excellent driver and having driven in places like Ranchi, Amritsar and Jammu which are all Meccas of the Jaywalker, he smartly skirted the little devil with invisible horns without a hitch and we were soon on our way. But then suddenly, he braked jolting me out of my time-pass reveries. I turned to find him frowning into the rearview mirror, his jaw muscles in hyperdrive, always a very ominous sign. I glanced back to find the four feet devils scrambling away from the car.

Okkk, I knew. They had pelted our car with a stone.

The moment the realisation hit me, I felt as if I had been betrayed. I have been staying in this part of Himachal for the last one year and I've formed the opinion that this is India's best corner to live in. It's exquisitely beautiful no doubt; but more important than this is the fact that the people of this place are simple, friendly, God-fearing and law abiding. I love this place so much that I seriously wish I could settle down here for the remainder of my life. So to have these Himachali little boys, throw stones at our car felt unreal and worse, it felt like a betrayal of all my beliefs in the nice-ness of this mountain town. I couldn't quite take this and stepped out of the car. With my oversized sunglasses tucked over my hair and my Angrez attire, I reeked 'tourist' and the boys probably stopped running out of sheer curiosity. They now clambered up on a large black stone and were waiting for this funny looking woman to reach up to them. I trundled over and quaking with indignation asked the nearest little boy, in my best 'totally betrayed' voice, 'आपने हमारी गाड़ी पर पत्थर क्यों फेंका?'
The boy replied confidently, 'It wasn't me !'
I turned to another four-footer, 'Was it you?'
'Nope.' Replied this one in a pink shirt.
'No?'
I threw the question at another one. This one was sitting on top of the black stone and giving me amused looks. He said firmly, मैंने तो नहीं फेंका।
I was wondering as to what track I should adopt next when the tiniest of the bunch, peeking from behind an older one volunteered earnestly, 'मैंने फेंका।'

😳

This one was barely four feet, and had a tiny face that was the sweetest I had seen for a long time. Red apple cheeks and such terribly naive eyes....... His confession was so disarming, so guileless, so earnest that I was completely floored. I just managed to ask him, 'Why DID you throw that stone, beta?'
'It wasn't a stone.' Came the prompt explanation. It was the cap of a bottle!
Oh! went my thoughts. I felt just a little foolish and
with nothing more to say, I walked back to the car.
But, as we drove back, I found myself feeling unnaturally elated because   my mountain boys were not guilty (well, not in the strictest sense of the word) and my belief of the nice-ness of the people of my mountains was not at all misplaced.

😊😊😊😊

Moral of this Story: Come to Himachal. It's truly DevBhumi, the Abode of the Gods.