The dingy roads of Darjeeling

 

The dingy roads of Darjeeling,

Cluttered more and more,

Too many people even when

The raindrops lash and pour

 

And every time I here return

The feeling’s same again

Dingy, dusty, dirty town

(Or sludgy in the rain)

 

Too many hotels straining for

A glimpse of snow and ice,

Too many people trampling as,

My Darjeeling – she cries

 

Batasia is choked with cars,

Is Keventers the same?

Swarms the mall, monastery

But who it is I blame?

 

For, am I not a part as well,

Of the tourists in the town?

Who turns the roads of Darjeeling

Dingy, dirty, brown

 

Yet Darjeeling remains at peace

Her heart is still so green

For centuries, she has learnt to give

Hence, rich she is a ‘Queen’

 

The railway continues to chug,

The monks at Ghoom, they pray

The trader, tourist come from far

Some fall in love and stay

 

And those who don’t, how can they not

Go back and sing a song,

More vagrants come to find a home

More pilgrims walk along

 

No longer Darjeeling’s a town

She is a fabled name,

A story many heard and grew

Until they themselves came

 

 To see a sunrise daubed in gold

(From Tiger Hill’s the best)

To see the Kanchenjunga range

And Lhotse, Everest

 

What is a shrine if worshippers

Don’t come to pay homage?

What is a book if readers don’t

Read each and every page?

 

The rainfall stops, the sky is cleared

More people on the street

A part of me, says Darjeeling

A part of my heartbeat

 

I look around the winter cold

Yet, it is so homely warm,

The dingy roads of Darjeeling –

A part of all the charm….

 

10^th March, 2023

Cover Image : Author's Archives