T he village stretched before me like an animated portrayal of rural houses featured in cartoons, knitted together by the stitching of green bush and stone craved pathways. It felt as if the vast wave of grassland is dotted with colourful houses, farms and animals. This place appears so divine as always. The narrow boulevard drifts like rustic brown metal, ancient and broken with age. On each side, small houses were parted by yards wide enough to hold the movement of cows and goat folks. The traditional home-design looked typically identical in shape but no two had same coloured roofing. They were either zinced or tiled in red, grey, blue and even brown like the ground. Most houses were not only a resident but have been capitalized by village entrepreneurs. Many ground floors were vending homemade liquor and duck’s sukuti, followed by other vegetable shops, fruit stalls, Panipuri/Chatpate and some grocers retailin...