We have a couple of hillocks overlooking my bedroom window. Till a couple of days ago they were dark brown in colour, sans greenery, sans trees, scorched by the desert sun. Looking at them one shuddered during summer as they radiated the heat of the desert sun, even at night. Since the last three years the rains had failed and I observed that each year the hillocks had become more fierce and devoid of life.
The hillocks were the bugbear of neighbours, be they old men or housewives. The neighbourhood gave them up as an evil to live with and endured, due to the abundance of "heat" generated by them.
But then suddenly they have endeared themselves to the neighbourhood. It was as if a miracle had taken place. There was however nothing significant or spectacular which turned the public opinion of the neighbourhood in favour of the hills. What happened was in fact quite banal and mundane, we just had some rainfall. The gentle rain permeated to the core of the hillocks and lush green blades of grass sprang up. It soon became a pleasant sight adored by one and all.
Little did we realise that the hillocks were capable of being so verdant and pleasant. We had given them up for good. But all along they had it in them. It was latent character not seen. Because this character was not seen they were misunderstood. But again the irony is that it just took three days of gentleness and love to enable them to come forth in their true colours. Three years of scorching rigour could not, but love helped the hillocks become dear to everyone.
