Clouds in the valley...

Purple lights Of the Howrah Bridge Ferry caught in the rains And we, in our nor’wester That first kiss Without the kiss While dancing in the thunder And hoping the journey never ends   But summer’s storm brings short relief. At the busy Howrah Station I turned back And time split, a part of me still there On the ferry Tasting rains, looking ahead The other me, awaiting clouds Under purple lights that fade away…   4 th March, 2026    

  At Leura, I stare At the Bridal Veil Falls - Summer’s rains Have breathed in fresh life And the valleys echo With the waterfalls roar   Blue clouds billow On the horizon, White smoky breaths Of the green jaded hill arise And the mountains wake To the mizzle of March   The Western Ghats Come back easily. The same colour of the clouds A nor’wester in Calcutta Or the wetness of Shillong What rejuvenated memories   But I stop myself – Isn’t it enough looking back? How long will I pass the present With the eyes of a distant past The memories, though beautiful Become a burden   The waterfalls remind Sometimes it’s good to flow ahead The arrow of time severed, I smile Leura is beautiful, The Blue Mountains are a bounty I wonder what the next village reveals…

  To all my friends who lost themselves – like me - in the Western Ghats   It was in the Ghats That we discovered Eden. If paradise could drizzle Wouldn’t this be it? The sky - with every shade of grey The earth – with every shade of green In between, us colourblind souls Drenching in a spectrum Of waterfalls that bled the hills.   I am removed, but what of you? Do you still seek cascades Every time it rains? Or have you succumbed To the summers of your lives? Was it ‘me’ that dragged you along? Or was it ‘us’, our restlessness Calmed only by the grandeur of the ghats?   Perhaps we have grown old But somewhere I know We are still there, seeking waterfalls, In the rains that never stopped We are still there, climbing wet earth Finding our own footsteps Yet wondering, where have they gone? The dreamy explorers of yesterday’s time...

  If I had to go back To find the both of us today I would return To Konkan’s golden sands. Those endless stretches – Harihareshwar, Diveagar, Vengurla, Kashid Countless more.   If you go there, You will find me Already there No footprints But a smile on the face; And that smile will continue As you come forth; Perhaps you too will smile   The day behind us, Just the calm of a late dusk The last sliver of the sun And a lonely boat Melting into the Arabian But the skies all aglow Reminding us It was always a beautiful day   The sea breeze will waft The casuarinas will sway. Both of us silent Because there is no need to speak And the Konkan will dream As it has always dreamt Even when none of us Were ever around…   26 th Feb’ 2026              

  Kalsubai remained unconquered; Wanting the list to stay alive, I kept a few boxes unchecked So many hills and walls scaled But the highest peak – Was kept aside for tomorrow   Tomorrow never came; The Ghats receded in the background Other cities came closer And my rain-drenched hills Of emeralds got lost In necklaces of yesterday   What a tug of war – You, who lived for today Wanting to plant a summit flag; I, who dreamt of tomorrow Let the clouds sail away Afraid they would end in rain   I wonder who was right? The tomorrows left With a puncture Or one yesterday A fulfilled jigsaw hanging In the emptiness of being full   But Kalsubai watches and smiles, Whatever we would have done, It would remain unconquered – Ourselves scaling only those parts That were already there, Deep inside our hearts   20 th Feb’ 2026 At 1,646 metres (5,400 ft), Kalsubai Peak is the highest point in Maharas...

  They will tell you Beyond this frontier, lies paradise: Goa – The colours of Bohemia The aroma of the sea The suntan warmth That chilled beer on the sands   But, what if the gateway Was paradise too? An invisible border divides the mind For Tarkarli watches quietly – With its rivers, houseboats Coral seas and Sindhudurg   It smiles – That rustic coconut calm Is not for the mindless tourist It is for the quiet nomad Exploring, not following Discovering, not ticking   There, at the very tip You can choose to melt In bucolic silence; The journey down south cut short But what is infinity less one step The winds blow even at Tarkarli…   19 th Feb, 2026   Tarkarli lies at the very end of Maharashtra just before Goa – while tourists flock to Goa, the beauty of this gateway is just as mesmerising