I wanted never to come back. I was sitting on the top of a hill in the shade of a large rock. The strong wind was bringing with it rain so light that the drops would evaporate the moment they hit the ground. But it was enough to make the rocks cooler. In front of me lay green fields for miles, dotted by clusters of shacks in-between. Coconut trees waved idyllicaly in the carefree wind. Whenever the wind slowed I could hear the hum of Kannada bhajans played at the temple below.

I wanted never to come back. I was in Tumkur, Satman's home-town. Rather, not Tumkur, but Kyatsandra, a small place about 6 kms from Tumkur. I had never expected to see such a beautifully serene place. So away from the hustle and bustle of city life. We need such an occassional break to lift our spirits, to get poison of city life out of our system.

I wanted never to come back. Or atleast, stay longer, if that were possible. But we had to catch the train. Good that we decided to take the train instead of the bus. It provided some compensation for not staying longer. I laid a newspaper on the floor near the door and sat down on it, my feet resting on the staircase outside the door. The cool breeze of the night was exhalting and invigorating. The voice of the engine and the clatter of the wheels, like always, were music to me. I love travelling in through trains in second class compartments. It is these simple joys of life that cherish our souls, that make this journey worth it all. Unfortunately, we city folks seem to be forgetting these joys of life. Roaming in air-conditioned shopping malls on weekends seems to have become a habit with us. That's what we call recreation. How ridiculous it seemed to me yesterday!