As I call this bit of foothill a piece of my personal heaven, I can’t stop feast my eyes on the vast horizon cloaked in profuse mist. Relishing every moment of being in the midst of the spectral mists that shifts and swirls through the highlands in the rains in Igatpuri, I stand amid the young shrubberies and stare into the distance for hours, listening to the gentle wind blowing into my ears and walking along the freeways obscured in the mist.
At the edge of a large meadow, hedges of flowering shrubs grew, and a few had already burst into bloom… tossing back and forth in every small breeze. I am completely in the swing of things and being aware of the beauty, intricacy, and power of the Mother Nature. No human civilization can replace that, and no harvest can achieve it.
Deep inside my heart I sense the fierce hunger for a race with Mother Nature to play as much hide and seek as I can before she forced me to stop and I bid adios to Igatpuri, an arresting stopover en route to my next destination Bhandardhara.
