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No place for Jill on
the hill ! SO Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water... how romantic! The hill must have seemed that much greener, their pail that much lighter for their holding hands. I wonder if that’s what made them so light-headed as to tumble down the slope head-first. I also wonder if Jill still longed to go up the hill with Jack when the two had spent a good deal of their lives together. I mean, wouldn’t she rather share the gossip with Hannah or Rebecca or Julie or even me on the way to the spring than put up with Jack’s middle-aged grumbling and bland arithmetic of pounds and shillings, day in, day out? I am sure, she would. Once her preoccupation with men, marriage and home had subsided, she would have yearned to be back among the girls. Lively, carefree, free-wheeling, with the wind in her hair... Till, like me, she found the rub. Inside me, the travel
bug has been fighting a losing battle. After all, it is ages since we
visited some place ‘interesting’: Which is hardly the adjective
for Shimla, where we land twice a year, or Chandigarh, where I grew
up. On the other hand, a sweet-sounding place like Chhitkul, in
Kinnaur, should be interesting. Ditto the Parbati river in Kulu or
Bharmour in Chamba or Chirgaon in Shimla district... |