By Namita Kulkarni.
If places were books, Netala would be that rare timeless classic sitting on a hard-to-reach shelf, in a less-frequented aisle of a quaint bookshop that only incorrigible bookworms make their way to. No snazzy cover jacket to grab eyeballs, no stellar reviews announced on its back cover, no catchy tagline, no hashtag-endorsed popularity, not even a shred of well-deserved pride displayed for admiration. Just unassuming dust-laden covers holding between them a world that could enchant and devour anyone who stepped in. An exterior that couldn't possibly have hinted at the grandeur inside. Much like the harsh terrain that precedes this well-kept secret of a village.