Nostalgia hits hard at times, like a silent predator, taking you by surprise, taking space off your head, while you be oblivious.
Thoughts of mountains, cold weather, warm black jacket rush in, involuntarily.

Faces, smiles and images, fights, wrestles, mad and uncontrollable laughter.

Groups of kids warming their hands, cigarette smoke in abundance in a land where cigarettes be banned. What conversation ever initiated with no cigarette to initiate it?

“Gundas” that dine in canteens till informed of Police heading that way. ( Nopes, not quoting any Bollywood script)

Moments of staring out at deserted roads deprived of monstrous vehicles, through the window of one’s room while pestering one to wake, then waiting that one to awake at one’s own pace.

Long discussions on conspiracies, monarchies, economies, kings, queens and rebels.

Trees, rivers, clear waters
Chats, walks, chillies
A reel of images…

Nostalgia, nostalgia
When be my return to Bhutan?