We have forgotten what it is like to drift off to sleep under the stars, and to be wakened at daybreak by birdsong. When flowers and seasons talk to us, we don’t understand. Quarai is a hidden nook in the hills. It sustains a simple way of life. When I stumbled upon it, ten years ago, it was all but forgotten by even the locals. By chance, I became friends with the one man who still lived there. I
kept going there, whenever I could. Quarai kept inviting me, to remember, and to understand. We built a house like they used to be built, with the stone of the mountains and the hardwood of the forest. We set about trying to revive the fields that the wild boar and jungle fowl had claimed for themselves. It has been a long time that we have been dreaming up this little world. We feel it is now real enough to share. We do not have electricity. We draw our water from the spring. We grow our vegetables, and milk our cows. We chop our wood, and cook over a wood fire. Feel free to bathe at the spring. Feel free to lie under a tree and drift with the clouds. After sunset, you can relax by the fire. It will keep you both warm and safe. This is leopard territory, and the next home is a distant light twinkling down in the valley. You are in Devabhoomi, the abode of the Gods. You might renew your acquaintance with them. You are in reserve forest, where pine gives way to oak and rhododendron. You might wander aimlessly amongst them. If all this makes sense to you, feel free to find yourself at Quarai.
