"No flower blooms for a thousand days."
--Chinese proverb

Sana looked at the pictures. A natural trail, covered with orange-brown fallen leaves, weaving through ancient trees. Autumn, she mused... A season as foreign to India as monsoon is to the west. Foreign and exotic...

Her attention returned to the picture. Walking along this leaf-laden trail, making a swishing-crunching sound, a person might brush her hand against the moss on the tree trunks, look up and see the sky through a canopy of trees, and to rest, she could sit leaning against a tree trunk, close her eyes and drink in the sounds of the rustling trees, insects, and the wind. There are no birds in the picture, but Sana could hear them: strange new calls and songs from a different land. She took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air and felt it caress her hair.

Next picture, different season: a secluded wooden cabin on stilts, with mountains behind and untamed greenery below and around. In the view is a gushing brook. A man sits smoking a pipe on the porch of the cabin. And a woman might sit there sipping a cup of hot chocolate-tea, Sana thought.

Another picture: the bedroom of the cabin with the view from the window. It's cozy in here, warm fluffy pillows, a beautiful quilt covering the bed, golden wooden planks for the wall and floor--and the misty coolness outside. There's even a book on the bedside table with a bookmark in it. Indian homes are built of brick and cement. What would it be like to live in a wooden cabin, Sana wondered. It would be different--special, she decided.

She read the text below the pictures. Alaska. The land of the aurora borealis. '$4500 only' the brochure said. No longer did Sana have to multiply the figure by 45 with trembling fingers to convert it to Indian rupees; now they could afford it without bothering about the math. All she had to say was yes, and they could be heading there, to her dream destination. To dip her fingers in that cool, refreshing brook. She put aside the brochure and opened the big drawer that contained their family photographs.

She selected their honeymoon album. They had gone to Ooty a week after the wedding. That was all they could afford then. They had gone quite cheerfully because, after all, the future lay before them: Darjeeling, China, England, France, Greece... Alaska!

She was proud of Ali and herself. They had reached their comfortable lifestyle through their own efforts--no inherited wealth, no recommendations for jobs, just talent and hard work--years of it. The only trip they had made outside the country was to Nepal, with their daughter and her children, eight years back. Now, here was the opportunity to finally go to Alaska.

"So?" Ali said, folding the newspaper and looking up.

Sana smiled gently and shook her head. "There's no point, Ali. You know I can't take the cold, and my back won't let me kneel in those pretty autumn leaves. I can visit it from right here through these pictures and still have my doctor near me, my regular knee massages, and the Mumbai warmth."

Ali looked at her for a while, then came and knelt near her chair. "It's where you always wanted to go, Sana..."

She stroked his thick, white hair and said, "It's ok, love, I know you meant for us to go. That's all that matters to me..."

Ali's eyes filled up as he buried his face in her lap. She was right, of course--the time for some things had slipped away silently and forever.