Clouds in the valley...

Where the two rivers meet, colours are found - Not just blue and green of swirling sound Or white with which, the peaks are bound. But all the colours we cannot see – Hope of the rafts that float away free Joy of the rivers to meet the sea Rise of the smoke from that house on the hill The crispy air and the hearts that fill   Above all - The colour of the wind, the rain and the song With which I hear my name from far along The colour of that call that fails to die To the passing time and the space that sigh The colour of the confluence that stays unchanged Far from   the heart, but not estranged…   24 th January, 2023   Anyone who has seen the green of the Teesta and Rangeet rivers in Sikkim and North Bengal will agree wholeheartedly that the colours of the mountain duo are unlike any other – teal and turquoise for Teesta, an emeraldine green for Rangeet. Each river sparkles on its own - imagine then their confluence of dark and...

Here, in this rain-laden winter’s day, I make a cup of tea, Black is good, no sugar, yet Sweet enough for me   I feel the granules in the packet loose, And a shiver runs down the spine, Each packed with a million memories Of snow-clad peaks and pine   My pilgrimage, after a decade’s dry, Was blessed by the peaks of gold, I can choose to smile and feel the warmth Even as my tea runs cold   And in every sip, I can see again The hills frenzied with tea, From Mim in Darjeeling’s wilderness, To Thurbo, Chamong, Phuguri   Green gold carpeted in the hills, Towering peaks above, Somewhere in between, for what is home Breaths of outright love   Was it just the hills, or just the greens, I wonder now as I think, Perhaps, there is more than any of these That can be writ’ in ink   There’s a homesick tug when you’ve moved this far A pain you cannot express, There may be so much you have got But then, ther...