Clouds in the valley...

There’s kindness in the gully’s greens Fed by summer’s rains, As the time-stilled photos make me look Beyond the shutter’s lens Images float from the Himalayan hills, As Teesta flows in green, And albums old all come to mind From long ago, unseen Marmoreal rocks, shingled sands, As slopes of jade remind, That for all those pilgrims brave to come,  The hills are always kind The hamlets pass, the Buddha beams, The Coronation shines in pink, While all along, the river gleams  As verdant as you think Prayers fly in fluttering flags, Adventure in a lemon raft, And Teesta weaves without a word,  Dreams for a future draft Which is s’posed to blow in a lacking land That gets deluged one day, For all the rains to splash the tales Of a river from faraway LIke olden love then, you find her face In every drop of green, But Teesta smiles, she doesn’t ask Where all these years you been? I feel jealous of the drizzle drops Unlike them, I don’t know where to flow, But I know I’ll hear th...

Our hotel attendant pulled back three layers of window curtains increasing the build-up to seeing what lay beyond. Zzzzzing, rolled the last diaphanous layer hanging from metal rings on a golden curtain rod. But beyond the large glass windows lay nothing – clouds of thick, foggy tendrils and mists of emptiness had blossomed in the cradle of the hills providing no views except whatever you could imagine. ‘The weather seems pretty bad today, no views of the valleys,’ responded our attendant, eking out a sigh from me. Throughout our trip from Kullu to Manali, I was mesmerised by the verdant heights of the hills and the meanders of the snaking Sutlej. I was hoping to cap it all with that unforgettable view that lights up whenever anyone utters the word ‘Himalaya’ to any sapped out, sleepy city dweller – deep blue skies and snow-clad white peaks glistening in the afternoon sun. Yet, here was I, staring at brooding clouds, veiling the shiny postcards of my anticipation. The attendant...

Sulphur fumes - That strikes a matchstick chord, In rivers of darkness, A beam of light then burns a ford   One by one, Comes lights, lamps, lustre all: Yet beyond, In sparkle shines a shimmering call   Not of light, But that of the reigning dark - ‘Without me, No glint or glare can make a mark’   Intertwined, In one the others’ fate Despite the flame, In light, the dark we celebrate   4 th November, 2021