Page 77 - January 2021

Bagori, having some errands to run at her home. Incredible it seemed for
someone so delicate to be all alone in a lonely village. She gestured me
inside with a friendly nod and I followed without qualms. I had a mind to see
what these homes looked like from the inside. With the small doors and
little pieces of furniture, it resembled a dollhouse. They believed the doors
had to be small to wade off spirits of deceased ancestors from entering the
house. It had a small hearth where the kitchen fire burnt and lovely incense
smell wafted out of the little rooms.

We did not speak much as I was unsure of the language of
communication. All the while, I looked around with a child-like wonder as I
had seldom seen something so immaculate and beautiful. Maybe it was
the lack of dirt and grime up in this altitude that was so conspicuous.
While bidding goodbye she handed me a small sack, and for some
unknown reason I found it hard to refuse. I found it was full of bright red
and succulent Himalayan apples. It was their custom to make an offering
to the leaving guest. I embraced her in a warm hug.

What the villagers said about Ringali Devi was true … she fulfilled the
wishes of whoever visited her with an open mind … she just fulfilled my
cravings for large succulent Himalayan apples.

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litterateur 7 january 2021