I go to the hills when my heart is lonely To laugh like a brook as it trips and falls over stones on its way The hills fill my heart with the sound of music Yes I look and I wait and I listen For one more sound One more thing that the hills might say... There are two places on earth where a man wants to lay down his roots. One, where his heart is and the other, where his soul is. My soul belongs to the green hills of Meghalaya (meaning, the abode of clouds). Don't ask me why. There is no valid explanation of this strange pull. (A la` happy mountain goat in past life?) So I filled in every corner of my lungs with the balmy mountain air, just the way I soaked in my mind with the beautiful sight. This wasn't my first visit to Shillong. But each visit to the magical hills fascinated me more than the last. There was I, at the backseat of the car, making little noises of pleasure and delight—like a little kid encountering magic for the very fir
I don't know where I am going from here, but I promise it won't be boring.