I like to call myself as ‘girl from the mountains’. Although they are just these little steep hills and stones covered large mounds that were surrounded by my home, they’re all that I’ve had while growing from as a little girl. Under a roof that had no neighbours, we – mother, little brother and I – passed our days up above the granpa’s areca farm, with cashew trees here and there and lined up hibiscus plants dominating, we passed our days under the plain blue sky. The house was open out to the paddy field, over which the sun would go down every evening. As visitors, we would have nomadic birds fly by, chirp for a while and leave and then come back again. And as companions, we would have Julie – dog that never left our back till it lived and few hens which always moved in it’s flock. The nights were pushed through, with howls by Julie at uneven hours and wake up to the mountains we call ourselves are from.