The Gumpha on the Hill

 

The gumpha lies alone in ruins,  

No one comes at all,

A quiet, lonely place it is

That stands atop a knoll

 

The broken ruins tell those who care

There once was life in full,

Praying monks, an altar shine

Draped in silk and wool

 

Now, cosmos bloom and ample grow

Under the dying stones

While sing the raspy, voices dead

Through the chorten bones

 

Of men who came and left as well -

Only the hill remains

But healed today of manmade scars

And all their mortal pains

 

As if, Nature has her wanton ways

To tame and make amend,

Not just the monks from long ago

Were here then enlightened

 

The hill too breathes in mokhsa peace,

The silence conquers all,

The empty skies, the wizened sun

The pine trees standing tall

 

Until the tattered prayer flags,

Rustle, whisper, trill

Monks, monastery come back though

There’s no gumpha on the hill…

 

3^rd March, 2023

 

Inspired by a walk to the deserted Rabong Gumpha or Monastery in Ravangla, Sikkim and by Rudyard Kipling’s legendary poem, The Way through the Woods

Photo: Author's archives