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Ideal Pastoral Life

A trip home is letting the magic of nature, surround and embrace you. Everywhere you look, beauty abounds and you can feel her breath pulsing in your veins. She calms and soothes the reluctant city dweller, and her touch is overwhelming. The soft cold breeze as it dances around you, the rain drops that linger on your skin, the clouds that hover above smiling and winking, the smell of the earth as it awakens to welcome the skies and the love that covers the land in green... infuses you, fills your soul and shines out of you. 
This and the next few pictures were taken from the train...
Lush paddy fields...
It's the monsoon season...
And the rain clouds were hovering nearby... ready to let go any second.
The hills and the windmills near my place...
This is how my colony looks, beautiful palatial houses...
canopy of flowering plants... 
Lavender orchids...
A creeper climbing high...
A path lined with coconut trees...
A quaint calling bell...
A dog lazily sleeping at the entrance to a house, near a kolam pattern...
Beautiful black goats lazing around...
More palatial houses...
Houses overflowing with greenery...
I like this little creeper entwined all over the balcony rail..
(click on the image for a larger view)
A glimpse of the new church in my colony... Infant Jesus Church.
So while I parked my bike and started talking all these pictures, I heard someone shouting 'Hey, Peythi!!!!'  (peythi in tamil means grand daughter) 
So I turned to find this man, and he was asking me why I wasn't taking a picture of him. So I said, okay give me a smile and I will. So here's Alagapan, a funny old gregarious man, I love his carefree attitude.   

Ah, going home is always good... and that too in the monsoon season, it's sheer bliss. Listening to the rains as I write this, it's living poetry outside my window. 

Comments

Nice post! where is this?
Karen Xavier said…
Clement, this is Nagercoil and its surroundings...
Susan Deborah said…
"Living poetry" truly. Loved the photographs and the colour.

You would have never felt like coming back to hot Madras, na?

Joy always,
Susan

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