Garden of Eden

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Plot of Earth.”

It would have to be in the high ranges or mountains somewhere- my ideal plot of land. It would of course be far from the madding crowd. It would be nice if I could have it in the Dur Khaima or the Far Pavilions ( somewhere in the Hindukush mountains).

The Far Pavilions

A light snow would be falling but the weather would be pleasant. The wind would bring with it the scent of almond blossoms from the far away city of Kabul.

almond blossoms

In this plot of land, I would build up a small house, with just one room, a kitchen and a bathroom. I would have a huge fruit garden with all the fruit trees in the world- particularly apples, cherries, plums, apricots and such. I would bring trees from the tropics and would grow them there in special greenhouses that I would have there.

The soil would grow flowers and flowering plants- in the summer there would be a bed of all sorts of flowers that would form a carpet and I would have my own valley of Flowers.

When I open the windows of my house, the delicate perfume from those flowers will come flowing in. I hope not to weed, chop and cut but to let the trees and plants grow in their natural forms.

As my companions I would have a lot of animals, particularly dogs, cats, cows, goats, and any other friendly animals. They would also grow in complete freedom there.

All of us, would wander around my Garden of Eden in gay abandon and not think of the world we had left behind us, for we would be in paradise itself. Such is how my dreamland would be.

( Inspired by The Far Pavilions by M. M. Kaye- one of my all time favourite novels)

The far pavilions -1

Visit to a country church

About 2 weeks back Sunday, I went to a small country church at home. It has been ages since I attended a service there. It is the church to which my husband’s family goes- so I have been there but rarely. So I do not have any memories of this church.

This day was different. For one thing, both my daughters were with me and my mother in law too. My husband had not travelled with us, so he could not attend.

The one thing that I could remember was the light- there was so much of light pouring in through the large open windows- a dose of healthy sunshine pouring in . I sat near the window in the ornate pew and stretched out, basking in the sunshine.

Men and women sit separately in this church. I had almost forgotten that it was this way, as it had been so long. Women seated in front of me and behind me tried to talk and make friends, both before the service and after. They asked me ” who I was”, ” with whom I had come”, ” who were my relatives in the church” and so on. So many questions but I didn’t find any of them funny or odd or even intruding. In fact, I thought of them as quaint- as quaint as the church itself.

Today I suddenly thought back on my experience with fondness. I was reminded of my old church that I used to attend with my grandparents when they were well and alive. It was a long walk over hills and valleys, visiting relatives on the way to church, that made Sunday mornings so exciting there.

I don’t like to visit old memories any more – because my grandparents are no longer alive. Perhaps the old church is still there but my grandparents’ aren’t. I think often of them but am saddened. I know I will meet them someday, but sometimes it seems as though that day is so far away !