http://milaap.org/fund/lalsangkimi-and-group/2124?&referrer_id=9298
Why should I pay for purchase of a STOVE????????
Ascribe my parental genealogy, my job postings or my love for mountain I am devout of North-East India.
Let's meet some clam ladies--
Traversing through the craggy path, abrasion of cold windy weather you expect nothing but more and more way to go. Verdure soothes the soul, ice encrusted mountain tips lures,strength revolts back, aflutter in the sight of a small impromptu shop cradles in the desolation. Serendipity! when despair-looks for a rest.
Sojourn in the thatched shop divulge another stage of life. A stage where struggles in life is little imaginable for people of plains.
"Where do you stay sisters??"
" There. down there".
They pointed in somewhere, towards a far away valley where my myopic eyes failed or my disbelief??
" Where?? I see nothing!! "
" There are some hamlets down there." a clam lady tried to comfort my distorted soul.
Every day, every morning. they carry all the amenities way up here to serve the outworn trekkers ( or just demented travelers for them ?? I wonder!) . Way up the hill.
Tourism is their main source of income. They work their life out to survive! All the shops I encountered in the hill regions of North-East India are managed by ladies mainly while their husbands are out on outdoor jobs. They work hard to keep pace with the hardest life of mountain.
I cupped my hands around the hot metal hollow pipe placed inside the furnace as they suggested, to revive my strength.
I dared not to ask " Where the fuel come from?" in the fear, they will answer in unbearable placidity
"Why? We carry the coal/logs on our back twice a week way up here."
I dared not.
The reminiscence still bleeds respect , evokes huge strength whenever I face adversities in my cocooned life of comfort.
Why should I pay for purchase of a STOVE????????
Ascribe my parental genealogy, my job postings or my love for mountain I am devout of North-East India.
Let's meet some clam ladies--
Traversing through the craggy path, abrasion of cold windy weather you expect nothing but more and more way to go. Verdure soothes the soul, ice encrusted mountain tips lures,strength revolts back, aflutter in the sight of a small impromptu shop cradles in the desolation. Serendipity! when despair-looks for a rest.
Sojourn in the thatched shop divulge another stage of life. A stage where struggles in life is little imaginable for people of plains.
"Where do you stay sisters??"
" There. down there".
They pointed in somewhere, towards a far away valley where my myopic eyes failed or my disbelief??
" Where?? I see nothing!! "
" There are some hamlets down there." a clam lady tried to comfort my distorted soul.
Every day, every morning. they carry all the amenities way up here to serve the outworn trekkers ( or just demented travelers for them ?? I wonder!) . Way up the hill.
Tourism is their main source of income. They work their life out to survive! All the shops I encountered in the hill regions of North-East India are managed by ladies mainly while their husbands are out on outdoor jobs. They work hard to keep pace with the hardest life of mountain.
I cupped my hands around the hot metal hollow pipe placed inside the furnace as they suggested, to revive my strength.
I dared not to ask " Where the fuel come from?" in the fear, they will answer in unbearable placidity
"Why? We carry the coal/logs on our back twice a week way up here."
I dared not.
The reminiscence still bleeds respect , evokes huge strength whenever I face adversities in my cocooned life of comfort.
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