The rearview mirror shows green cliffs vanish into the monsoon mist, reminding me of the Damodar in spate. My Ambassador’s radio, which I repaired myself, plays an old Hemant Kumar song; it feels *khub bhalo* with these wet, sleeping hills outside. I think any ancient fort must have known this same quiet, just before the first kettle whistles for tea.
#monsoon#trekking
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