You have probably guessed it right. The answer lies in the question itself – the wind is common to all the three.
The day’s work done, it was time to switch of all lights including that of our laptops and phones. As we soaked in the serene beauty of Second Chance House, I told my husband of a story I had heard that day.
Phulwa, one of the tea garden helpers had come to the house. He is a little odd and must be dealt with delicately. The girls told me that he could converse with those who had passed on to the next world.
I have always said that Second Chance House is much like a living organism. Almost on cue, it was, as if some thriller, horror movie director has called out ‘ACTION’. The leaves on the elm started a slow rustle, the friendly crickets stopped their chatter and the swing at the far end of the lawn, near the bamboo grove started moving slowly. The fireflies came out of nowhere to light up the swing. The shadows kept shifting as if there was someone coming in.
It was a cloudy night, the light of the moon played constant hide and seek. The wind in the bamboo grove urged the swing to go higher and higher. Just then, the wind chime entered the scene and started an eerie albeit tuneful melody. The lilting notes of the wind chime carried a mournful song of woe and tragedy.
Completely spooked out, my husband and I decided to walk to the swing to figure out what is happening. The mist, like a theatre organiser, strictly stopped us on our way and dropped the curtain. We could not see anything anymore. The spell was broken and the show was over.
Slowly things returned to normal. The moon fought the clouds and shone brightly. The errant wind now played an entirely different tune. The leaves of the trees and the wind chime struck up a livelier note. It was almost as if the last half an hour (it seemed much longer) was nothing but a figment of our imagination.
The next morning, I questioned the wind chime about the night before. After all, it was an outsider like us. We had put it up lovingly on the cinnamon tree so that it could tell us the many tales that it heard from the wind and the leaves. That day the wind chime told me the story of its life.
From its inception, the wind chime was taught to look for the wind. Luckily for it, the windchime had truly found the wind in all its wilderness, in its abandon, in its restlessness and its restfulness. The wind chime had become one with Selim Hill Tea Garden. It guarded the secrets of this magical, mystical place!
As I brewed a cup of Dorje Lavender Tea for myself, I realised that not everything can be explained and not everything should be understood. The magic of life is in believing in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus.
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