I was called for an interview to a self financing college to teach English. It was in a place called Kuttikanam, a tiny hill station in Kerala. I started my journey in the wee hours of morning by bus. The road was narrow and curved like a serpent. The bus was groaning like an old hag while taking the hair-pin bends. A child sitting on the laps of her father was fiddling with a cell. All of a sudden she became uneasy and then the father produced a plastic bag and she puked into it. Many people on the bus also started to retch. I being a Piscean more attuned to the watery depths have never in my life puked on journeys. Even while travelling in the sea on boat, I was completely at ease. During that time there was a French lady who was feeling so nauseated and was puking at regular intervals. Smoke was brewing out the hills like a ghost. One could see whiffs of clouds slowing escaping the paint brush of an artist and floating above the road. I had a book –The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud but I never felt like opening it up. The air became an aromatic garden and the scent of tea leaves, cloves like cardamom wafted through the air like fragrant angels. Some day (I wish I could win the First Prize of the Onam Bumper lottery 2015 of 7 Crores held by the Kerala State Government) I hope to build a cottage house and stay in these hills and write the entire day. The interview turned to be routine and mundane. The pay to my surprise was appallingly a beggar, just 150 $ of cash for a month. Though the purpose of visit was a disaster the tryst with nature turned out to be surreal as a poem.