One could see the entire spread of Garo hills from up there, a partially dilapidated watch tower on Tura Peak. The whimsical sunshine showing the love in certain pockets. The rest darkened in melancholy. The confluence, a lugubrious yet charming affair.
The panorama wasn't vanilla. At a distance, a bunch of Gibbons provided the much needed background score. Ah, the orchestra of mother nature. And just when you are on the verge of a picturesque deluge, a cloud passes through the tower. It embraces you. Engulfs you. If only you could dissolve into it, and move on.
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