At Kanchenjunga Falls

 

 

The frigid waters of the Falls

East of Pelling

Made me elated.

But you remained morose –

“To reach a pilgrimage

When we had not bled enough

We remained

Undeserving pilgrims.”

 

The glacial melt

That came from the heights of

Kanchenjunga

Was the God itself –

For those who couldn’t ascend

To the dizzy heights

The meltwater in the falls

Was the closest to redemption

 

It is only now

That I realise

The burden of that heavy truth –

Almost a font of freshness

Drenching you ahead of time

When it was not yet season

For the monsoon clouds

To roll in summer’s rescue

 

Almost a font of love

Healing all of you

When the wounds

Were not even formed,

Undeserving pilgrims, as you said

Reaching the sanctuary of salvation

Yet feeling unworthy

In a journey that was never made

 

Perhaps, after all these years

We have earned our rights

To touch and feel

The meltwaters made in Heaven

We have tread long enough

To bleed, to burn and, bruise

That we can show the pain

As honour of the pilgrim’s path

 

If we went back, perhaps

We would finally smile

But would that be with joy?

Or rather melancholy

From all the tears that have dried out

No longer to be replenished

Even by the waters

That come down from the heavens of snow…

 

04^th June 2025