Life is beautiful

Monstrous clouds rained down with untamed fury,as thunder roared in the blackness of the night.I was in Sohra,a village in Meghalaya,India,one of the wettest place in the world.It is a land where elephants and tigers wander freely,where dense green forests sit under stormy skies.It is also a spectacularly remote place,and I was hopelessly lost.Lightening illuminated my surroundings and in a split second,I spotted that hut. It stood alone,miraculously upright as it battled the storm.I made my way to it and saw an old woman crouching at the entrance,calmly observing the rain.She had a limply hanging lower lip,toothless gums and her eyes had the filmy look of very old age.She watched me approach and slowly got up from her perch and headed inside, wordlessly motioning for me to follow..With a slow,deliberate motion,she lit a fire at her chulha and placing a pot on the flame,rummaged through boxes,collecting ingredients.I was watching her and presently my mind wandered away.I marvelled at how I felt so lost in my own country.Diametrically different cultures span the width of India and it was no wonder that I felt like a foreigner in a distant corner of the same country I call home.I snapped back to the present as a familiar aroma filled my nostrils.She was stirring a deep amber coloured liquid and as she added a pinch of a dark powder,a soundless explosion occurred.That room was filled with a rich aroma that immediately transported me to fields in Punjab, to forts in Rajasthan and the backwaters of Kerala.Smells have the power to conjure up memories in an instant and I was overcome with a sense of belonging. I felt the tension ebb away as I watched her prepare Masala Chai.I inhaled it’s aroma,rich with the distinctive scent of cinnamon,ginger and cloves and suddenly I didn’t feel so lost anymore.
I sat back, relaxed and watched the rain.