“The Foothills”

“He caught glimpses of the most primitive roadside huts imaginable: jerry-built lean-tos fashioned from corrugated iron roofs supported by bent and weather wooden posts. But behind these flimsy structures, rising like a silent commentary on the difference between the skills of human beings and those of nature, were the sentinels of the magnificent Garhwal Himalayas. Mountains the color of old chocolate soared sheer from the side of the road. More distant peaks gleamed heavenly white, as if they had been coated with immaculate clouds, which, in turn, had been infused with scorching sunlight. Portions of the topography rounded like soft feminine shoulders; others spiked like urban skyscrapers. A river of white flowing down the flank of a mountain was juxtaposed with speckled patches of barren greenish-gray. At roadside level, brilliant oblongs, like golf-course greens, were bordered by thick growths of bushes and trees of a darker shade. And the entire scene was swallowed up by an immense evergreen bowl that completely surrounded it.”