Were these the hills that drove the inhabitants helter-skelter in search of their woollen outfits that lay scattered all over in their houses?
Summer was at its peak. With their warm clothes and caps off their bodies, the people looked trim and younger, and their smiles were free from twists and turns. Of course, they felt the pinch of their purses owing to soaring prices – the summer bonanza for the shop keepers at the expense of the tourists and the natives to some extent.
Summer is also the time for the natives to play host to their dear and near ones. Every now and then, you get a phone call from guests, “We are at Charing Cross… how far is your house from this place? Instead of giving directions that will only confuse the guests, you would say, “No Problem… I’ll be there in ten minutes… By the way, what’s the colour of your car… and number?” and as soon as you get a reply, you dash to Charing Cross, repeating the colour and number in your mind. Then, On reaching there, you are a bit confused… “was it 5206 or 2506?” Anyway, one of the guests would have seen you, much to your relief.
The summer is always on its wings and, in a jiffy, it will be back to square one. The hills seemed to mock at me when I repeated those words, “Were these the hills that drove…” There was a roaring in the sky and the rain came heavily and fills in floods! The next day I saw the same old well-protected grim faced natives wherever my casual eyes were cast!