Salli was a beautiful village in the heart of the untrodden Khauli River valley of the Dhauladhar Himalayas. There was a government school at the beginning of the village neighbouring Hanuman temple. A big metal bridge was connecting Salli to the other part of the road, whose underneath Khauli river would flow with great force cutting through the big rocks. Standing on that bridge was a blessing for the eyes looking at the magnificence of nature. The local bus would not cross the bridge but stop at the beginning of the bridge only. Salli was the last stop for all the buses. To go to further villages there would be shared jeeps. There was one big Hydro project at the bank of the river and a huge metal water pipe going across the village to its main Reserviour build on the top of the hill. The main market area would begin right from where the bridge had got connected to the village. All the shops were built on both sides of the main road which was passing through Salli to Kareri lake. That was the holy lake of Lord Shiva and Shakti, whose temples were built at the lakeside. Also, that was a very famous destination among trekkers. That was the same place on my checklist to visit when I first came to Himachal. Then met Madhu and came to Salli with her to go for trekking the next day but rather stayed in Salli only, for 4 days. That was still unchecked. When I had already found heaven then why would I think to go in search of something else?
Our home was in the middle of the jungle surrounded by trees and a big mountain behind. There was a small road made up of stones going in front of the home. There was a small bridge next to our home connecting another hill where there were few villages on the upside. Big stream flowing next to our garden would pass underneath that small bridge. There were many big rocks rooted in the ground through which the stream would flow. That was our favourite place to wash clothes and dishes. The same stream had few naturally created swimming pool spots. Most of our afternoons would be spent in those pools. In the evening we would march uphill for collecting wood for our mud stove. People in that village had innocence on their face and in their heart. They would speak with me in their local mountain language 'Gaddi'. They would get curious to talk with me as I was the only different looking person in the entire village. Everyone there started knowing me by the name of Maratha, as that's what Madhu and Noor would call me. Right from my very identity which was the name, everything had changed in my life. Every time someone would call me, it would remind me of my roots. That name carried a great pride. I felt grateful to Madhu for blessing me with that name.
Noor's school would start at 9 am so she would get ready by 8.30 and wait for her friends to walk with. Kids from the villages situated on the upside of the mountain would come rushing down like small boulders rolling down from steep mountain hill slope. Their uniform was red checked shirts and white short. These beautiful red flowers would start showering from the mountain in the early morning. I would sit outside with Noor waiting for her friends. Madhu would keep asking her the regular drill questions about if she had taken her tiffin, water bottle, books and pen. Upon her friends reaching the bridge next to our home, Noor would get up and hug her mom saying, 'I love you, Mumma.' She would get the same reply in return and a kiss too. While walking away Noor would often look back to see her mom and wave goodbye. Madhu would keep standing there till Noor would get visibly away from her sight. Every morning I would be blessed by witnessing those loving gestures between the mother and the daughter.
I Prayed For Their Union To Stay Forever
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