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Hill Melodies by Shantanu Bhowmik


The Himalayas awaken

To the call of the first light.

Stars yet in deep slumber,

Truly, a magical moment in sight.

Only the sound of the gushing brook

tearing rocks asunder.

The peaceful premises of the mandir yonder

deserted, - none yet , no chirping birds either.


The morning sun hails,

the crimson-tinged eastern sky gleams.

It’s the hour to kindle the meditative lamp

deep within.

With closed eyes, the vision

of the sky unfolds …

The expanse of it , - touching the fringes of

a borderless border.


The temple bells gong!

None in sight;

The small river meanders,

No ripples rise.

The dried leaves murmur,

there's a secret goings on;

The dappled leaves resonate

in a whistling breeze!


The dappled edges of the cliffs

in yellow and green;

Village women heaving uphill,

with grass-full of backpacks, can be seen.

The bubbling brook

laughs in glee;

The colourful leaves on its waters,

like tiny sail boats dance so free.