- Nandini Sengupta
Autumn dissolves into preachy winter...the fallen leaves have started accumulating themselves...Stunted feelings, residual talks, still left incomplete after a long evening...
Of mountain trails, of winding roads
of unknown terrain, of messy zones
of pines, deodar and firs
of butterflies, caterpillars and moths.
Those stunted grass emanating
half baked, half understood life
those rocky paths ending nowhere
echo mysteries and sing of sunrise...
Mountains have their own tales, their own dreams and aspirations...they speak of love and loss, of beauty and scars, of madness and peace, of permanence and transcendence. Each rock reverberates with stories of that soul who might have taken a brief respite after a fatiguing walk down the hilly terrain.
The fatigue is not so much of the form
but the mind stirring in cups of fear
fear of the unknown, of unresolved interior.
The enigmatic peace, the daylight cheers
half forgotten memoirs, streaks of tears
must rest for a while now
or get stuck in the wild forever...
The coiling path of the taxi, loaded with hopes of the travelers, engaged in chit chats amongst themselves, wind up the road in anticipation. The snowflakes which had just started to welcome their journey ahead, sent a chill underneath their warmers. The trees are accustomed to its ways, the man driving the taxi might as well. But not the wayfarers.
Explore they must, for that what life is
dance to their way they must
for that is how they bridled
their joyful way to resilience.
The impression of their feet
on the lap of guileless snow
the cold of the surprising rain
made their countenance glow...
The molding of nature into different forms, creatures reciprocating to them in all its glory, at times, puts me into utmost awe as if everything has always been there, nothing ever has changed. The voice within must echo its omnipresence!!
(These are snippets of my half baked thoughts which gradually came to realization after a short trip to mountains- they are ever so mesmerizing, beyond words and description...)
By Nandini Sengupta