I love windchimes.The soft tinkling sound lulls my senses. Usually my schedule deprives me of the joy to sip on to my cup of coffee in bliss , newspaper in hand and the gentle music of the breeze flirting with the chime soothing my senses. The morning was different today. Time rolled lazily...the steam from my coffee mug making fascinating patterns in the air. I was at peace with the self, with the surroundings. Memories took me back to the days in the mountains of garhwal,where life was in perfect tandem with the rolling mountain side. And I remember a poem I wrote long back, inspired by the beautiful landscape of Garhwal...In the sweltering heat of Delhi, the memory of the poem is refreshingly cool...
The Shadow
The valley stretches before her
Like the yawn of the lazy cheshire
The sun kissed fields with paddy
Cascade down like the folds of the bride’s gown
Rustling in the breeze
Lush green, sprinkled with wild pansies
She gazes dreamily at Khait Parbat in the distance
“Fairies and elves dwell in the woods yonder!”
She had heard them say
As the shared stories under the peepal tree
overlooking the Bhagirathi
The grand mountain peak
Raises in her mind
Images she had fantasized as a child
The mountain peak with walnut trees
The fairies had taken fancy to..
The sensuous simplicity of the hill folk
lulls her senses
The pristine peaks draped in white
The clouds with silver lining
Clamour to rest their wandering waves
on the rocky shoulders
They gather and crowd around like an eager audience
Waiting for the recital to begin
Someone plays a flute in the distance
Maybe a shepherd boy
In leisure and tranquillity
Under a pine tree roasting cones
That fall down with a soft thud
His sheep graze around
Occasionally lifting their heads
To fix their gaze on the clouds
The valley resonates with the sound of music
The ripples of octave reach far and wide
The sun dips down
To rest his crown
Draping the hillside with warm hues
As it lays its royal head to rest
For a siesta in the vast sea of timelessness
The angels of the eve get set to work
To weave fantasies in wandering minds
The breeze blows its conch
The lazy clouds span out in fog
To powder the mountain side in mist
Thus dimming the hues of the day
In their own unique way
As they swagger, drunk with wine
They clash and roar
Somewhere far away the showers of rain
Wait to unleash their power
In the foggy eve she finds herself
Alone under the tree
Where are the colours of the day?
The shepherd and his song?
The meandering trail of the river
Is lost in mist and fog
The smoky clouds fill up the void
Where the valley had been
And then someone calls out her name
Searching for her solitary frame
The fog
Swirling around like a lunatic
On the beat of drums
Holding her on an alter
Waiting for the moon to tear through the mist
In frenzied fury the clouds roar
Behind her a beam of light
Outlines her frame in fiery gold
In a trance, she stands
Gazing ahead at her own shadow
On the dancing mist
She reaches out
To touch her
Then, oblivious to the mortal call
She walked ahead into the mist
The immortal soul
To be a part of the cosmos
The valley stretches before her
Like the yawn of the lazy cheshire
The sun kissed fields with paddy
Cascade down like the folds of the bride’s gown
Rustling in the breeze
Lush green, sprinkled with wild pansies
She gazes dreamily at Khait Parbat in the distance
“Fairies and elves dwell in the woods yonder!”
She had heard them say
As the shared stories under the peepal tree
overlooking the Bhagirathi
The grand mountain peak
Raises in her mind
Images she had fantasized as a child
The mountain peak with walnut trees
The fairies had taken fancy to..
The sensuous simplicity of the hill folk
lulls her senses
The pristine peaks draped in white
The clouds with silver lining
Clamour to rest their wandering waves
on the rocky shoulders
They gather and crowd around like an eager audience
Waiting for the recital to begin
Someone plays a flute in the distance
Maybe a shepherd boy
In leisure and tranquillity
Under a pine tree roasting cones
That fall down with a soft thud
His sheep graze around
Occasionally lifting their heads
To fix their gaze on the clouds
The valley resonates with the sound of music
The ripples of octave reach far and wide
The sun dips down
To rest his crown
Draping the hillside with warm hues
As it lays its royal head to rest
For a siesta in the vast sea of timelessness
The angels of the eve get set to work
To weave fantasies in wandering minds
The breeze blows its conch
The lazy clouds span out in fog
To powder the mountain side in mist
Thus dimming the hues of the day
In their own unique way
As they swagger, drunk with wine
They clash and roar
Somewhere far away the showers of rain
Wait to unleash their power
In the foggy eve she finds herself
Alone under the tree
Where are the colours of the day?
The shepherd and his song?
The meandering trail of the river
Is lost in mist and fog
The smoky clouds fill up the void
Where the valley had been
And then someone calls out her name
Searching for her solitary frame
The fog
Swirling around like a lunatic
On the beat of drums
Holding her on an alter
Waiting for the moon to tear through the mist
In frenzied fury the clouds roar
Behind her a beam of light
Outlines her frame in fiery gold
In a trance, she stands
Gazing ahead at her own shadow
On the dancing mist
She reaches out
To touch her
Then, oblivious to the mortal call
She walked ahead into the mist
The immortal soul
To be a part of the cosmos
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