Kamshet
Red hills punctured By colours of the para-glides: Beautiful confetti-like, sailing In the hot skies of Kamshet But the convection currents Thus harnessed, they always returning Sometimes, when I look back I wish, all friendships could paraglide - Lift on thermals, soar far away Get pulled by clouds, soar and sink But in between, return to cliffs of life To talk together at end of day But our journeys are no paraglide, We prefer the speed of jets Soar away, in sonic success In contrails of ambition The skies left behind, still the same But empty, and a little less The paraglides still twist and turn In these hills of yesterday; The same red cliffs, warming sun. Sometimes, a stray-thought visitor comes But finds only shadows And living memories that don’t return… 1 st January, 2026 Kamshet, in the Western Ghats, is a paradise for paragliding and nature lovers. Its red hills, valleys, and colorful skies offer breathtaking views, ...
