stopover..

A sweet voice beckons me to the golden plates with mounds of mouth watering delights , as I get down from my bright and warm carriage. The journey had been long and wonderful but I am tired and irritated.

I recognize the greenest and freshest treasures from our garden, and my mouth resembles the suez canal.

My mother's preparations adorn this royal feast and I start picking up one after the other, commenting on how each one tastes and occasionally ignoring a bit of imperfection.

I eat to satisfaction and dunk myself into the refreshing juices from the orchards, while eyeing the mounds of ice cream made from the ice brought in from the Himalayas.

The same Himalayas, on the peaks of which I sang a hopeful song before returning home for the feast. No mountains can keep me away from the love of a handful of rice. Or was it just the growl of the tummy? Anyway here I am, and I would have regretted if I wasn't.

As the feast ends, I eye the clock and the voice in the head starts uttering strange things. It is time to leave and my carriage has arrived. The carriage painted in bright yellow, with green stripes seems hypnotizing and the voice in the head seems more and more distant as I get into the carriage and tuck myself in, into the comfort of the warm blankets, and continue my wild quest into the lands unknown.

Sayonara and happy lazy sunday evening :)