Adventures in the hills PART -3 Yamuna

An hour later I could hear soft sounds around the room, and I dug deeper into the blankets, desperate for a few more minutes of sleep. Much too soon though, Katie announced to no one in particular, that breakfast would be ready in half an hour.
I peeked out from under the pillow and saw her, all dressed and ready, sitting on her bed brushing her hair. Danielle, like myslef, was still a bump on the bed so I retreated to the dim recesses of slumber.
But another fifteen minutes later, I was dragged into the land of wakefulness, this time Danielle had joined in the effort with Katie, to rout me out of bed and both were looking at me with exsperated amusement.
Molten gold, in the form of sunlight, poured into the room through the tiny windows, blindingly bright.
Nature has a way of exacting payment of those who tresspass into her realm of the mysterious, magical, starlit night and await the coming of the rosy dawn. I paid for it with a heavy head and bleary eyes right through breakfast.The drive immediately after however jolted me wide awake and the fresh morning air cleared the cobwebs of sleepiness (pun intended, refer to the last post).
We stopped over a bridge, and walked down the slight incline that led to a small stream that ran below. Situated half way up the opposite hill was tiny stone building which housed a mill. The villagers who inhabited the neighbouring hills used the mill to grind their grain to flour. The old man who owned and built the mill was sitting atop it, enjoying the warm seeping rays of the sun. His nehru-cap and khadi sleeveless jacket added to the old world charm of the whole setting. He didn't say a word to us girls, but smiled obligingly into the camera.
Kunwarji explained the working of the mill, and showed us how the water was directed from a certain height, the flow of water was controlled by a simple wedge of wood that could be slipped into the grooves that had been carved into the sides of the water channel, effectively slowing or stopping the turbine that powered the mill. Two big round 'doughnut' stones, placed one on top of the other with a barely noticeable space in between made up the mill itself. The stone on top rotated and as the grain came pouring in from above, into the 'doughnut hole', it got crushed into flour and spilled out of the space between the stones. Kunwarji demonstrated the whole cycle for our benefit – it was very interesting and educational to experience that procedure first hand after studying it years and years ago in school.
We also stopped by another small village along the way called Batoli, which was similar to Sainji, and where Kunwarji had a few minutes of business to transact.Then we got back into the red minivan ready for a longish ride, winding through the hills, climbing higher and higher half of the way and then whizzing down curving roads the other half until we reached the huge metal bridge that spanned the Yamuna river.
Within minutes we were in the river, with our leggings rolled up as high as they would go. I found a large rock not too far from the shore and shinnied up on it. I turned around on my perch and saw that the other two had done the same. We felt like kids again, giggling and letting our fingers trail in the fast moving , icy cold water. The river gurgled and rolled by, not really rushing scarily out of control, but at more of a persuasive pace. The sunshine glinted on its green undulating surface. I am sure it would've gladly carried away anything or anyone willing to float along. The shore was rocky rather than sandy, with bits of algae clinging to the sides of the slippery stones. The river bed ran between two huge mountains, that were once part of just one mountain, and over the years it had had a path blasted through it for the river. Large jagged rocks lay strewn on the shore as reminders of the process. Further along the shore there was a summer camp that took paticipants rock climbing and rafting on the river. Their bright colorful tents stood out in stark contrast to the wild nature of those surroundings.
Kunwarji, the ever attentive host, bustled about arranging for a mid-morning snack. He hopped over rocks to throw us a supply of peanut butter cookies, after which he went back to the car and returned with some oranges. This time round, he just threw the fruit into the river and we grabbed them as they bobbed their way towards us! Talk about home delivery!
With a plentiful supply of water all around us, it had to happen sooner or later, and I picked a water fight with unsuspecting Katie. I threw an extra large stone close to the rock she was sitting on, the big splash wet her nicely and I couldn't stop laughing at the look on her face, that mingled surprise and indignation. But I should've known I'd be in trouble, cause she stomped on to the shore and attacked from higher ground. I was cornered and if it hadn't been for Danielle who kept supplying me with ammunition, I probably would've gone under sooner. Katie's aim grew surer with each throw and a truce was called, with me sporting a beautiful blue bruise on my shin (I deserved it, but – ouch!) and both of us soaked to the skin.
Oh it was fun!