I would have my ears filled with the crisp clear laughter of the girls at dorms.
The crunches of branches as monkeys run rapidly from tree to tree.
My ears alive with hard breathing and converse pounding upward on concrete stairs.
The sound of students rushing from class to class
I would be alive with the sound of the wind whistling against windows.
The sound of seagulls against the hot simmering beach.
The sound of urban neighborhoods and cars honking and church choirs singing.
The sound of teachers in class and walking in the hall while music runs through my
mind.

My eyes are open to the sun bright trees in front of the school gate.
The first sight to my lazy eyes as I reach the top of the hill.
My eyes alive with the strange and exotic colors of India.
So different from the grays and business suit blacks of the city.
The gray mist that covers Mussoorie every morning and the moss greens and browns
surrounding every step I take.
The shining light that comes out of the clouds during midday that floods the dining
hall.
Then the twinkling homes like stars scattered across the dark mountain side like a
never ending sky is the last sight I see.

I wake up to the strong smell of green apple lotion that tickles my nose.
My mind breathes in the cold and relaxing smell after a night of rain.
My first step out the door my mouth can taste the sharp air.
The taste of unreal and sugared pineapple is bitter yet pleasing to my tongue.
The warm feeling of bad coffee which slowly trickles down my throat.
The calming feeling of a backpack sitting just right between your shoulders and
the way it bounces up and along as you walk down hill back to dorms.

The touches most dear to me are those which remind me of love.
The soft fluff and fur under my blanket.
The shaggy comfort of my old teddy bear with a frayed tie.
The touches of tight hugs from friends when you’re upset and just want to go home.
The way only a mother can have you sit in her lap and just stroke your hair until you
feel better
The grip of hands on shoulders, which you never want to end.

But then there are those touches of new experience.
The first time stroking a cow’s warm and soft back and the way it vibrates under
your hand.
The first time walking barefoot on soil filled with little shoots of green grass.
The first time you sit on a hill and feel the Himalayan air and look at the snow white
peaks that seem so close to you.

But at the end of the day nothing feels better than the warmth of your bed as your
ankles knock against the bedpost.
Hearing the storm splash against the glass making it feel like the entire world is
rocking back and forth.
Slowly listening to your breath as your world calms down to the steady pace of a
waltz.
Then pleasantly falling to a sleep where senses have a never ending bliss.