A Himalayan Escapade

Walking up and down the slope ; sometimes a stroll- Sifting thru the thickets of Himalayan forests; Sometimes stopping by the woods and rediscovering the soul, Off and on the tired body yearns for a rest. Cold nights of wonder- full of spirits and roll, With endless banters and laughters at its best. Amidst the sombre vastness, beauty urfurled- It's all about the trip I went through - I was off to Sandakfu.

Lost in the hills

Walking up and down the slope; sometimes a stroll-

Sifting through the thickets of Himalayan forests;

Sometimes stopping by the woods and rediscovering the soul,

Off and on the tired body yearns for a rest.

Cold nights of wonder- full of spirits and roll,

With endless banters and laughters at its best.

Amidst the sombre vastness, beauty urfurled-

And I lose myself to never come back!

Sailing through

Reclining on HAMMOCK in an afternoon sea beach,
JOINTS of times , a time of today and a time of unknown past or future,
Hanging between two trees , one from reality and another surreality-
Aaaah..impossible combination - taking a flight through cold drakness,
On a HAMMOCK train of thoughts, JOINTs unchained ! 

The word "Love" is as dry as funeral drum and smells like funeral pyre.........

Nameless

Day after day and night after night,
I pretended to be so right.
Sometimes amidst a gloomy idle day
I feel the shades of grey,
That creeps into my life;
And robe me off all of my vibes.
I stride down with a blurred vision;
Catching up the dash of crimson,
Diffused all over the sky-
And I am left with an overwhelming sigh!
I pace slowly,languidly through the shadows
Of my room and peep through the glass windows-
The nature outside resides in a dour mood;
With grey clouds floating all aorund.
Time ticks away,a gloomy passes into a tired mind;
And the shadows fade into the shades of night.

Always Back to The Rain

Day by day expressions and feelings are buried in the cenotaph of numbness and stoicism. I sit down idle looking through the window, lost into the chirping birds hovering around the Pipple tree around the corner at the afternoon while the tinge of crimson red of the dieing sun softly falls on them. Then at some some night there comes the rain.I settle myself in the balcony during the shower and look at the bereft tree branches in the backdrop of the grey-coloured cloudy sky. You feel that someone or something has robbed the poor trees of their green leaves, symbol of life. So they are still standing still in the rain lifeless. But rain is like a whiff of cool breeze, a touch of life, a sense of freshness. These trees seem to pine for the rain, its inherent cool warmth. The raindrops slide down their branches as if the crystal clear raindrops kiss them with all their adoration.Grey clouds prevail. Magic all around - the soft parade of raindrops all over the tree branches, indignant fall of another host of raindrops through the green leaves around, small rivulets of flowing rainwater in the roadsides-all these sounds resonate to a magical spell all over the surrounding and the cold freshness prevails. So this tired soul is always back to the rain.

Dreamwalk...

I dream away…..about a long winding road….trees on the both side. The dawn mist is diffused with the canopy of the invigorating green leaves. I am walking, all alone….staring at the crimson sky, where the sun is about to come out….I am walking down the road, a road to nowhere. Suddenly at the crack of the dawn the first light of the day streamed in filtered through the canopy of the leaves and fell on me, touched me at my arms…gently moved up through my body up to my face. My long staring eyes glowed in the yellowish glow of the sunbeam and I keep dreamwalking. The sunlight kisses my leaps gently and I feel the warmth in it, relish it to my heart’s content….she plays with me, falling on my void chest sometimes and nurturing my hair undulating in the cool breeze of the hill retreat. Today where is she? None like her in reality. That is why I dream away…away from this harsh reality which binds me in infinite turns, I am like a failure actor trying hard to act to tune me up with this reality .But I stumble as an actor all alone. I am trying to be a good dog without a bone.

But every time I am spent up of acting I go back to my dreamwalk, I dream away with the music and sound of drums and strumming of guitar running through my veins. I can sometimes vividly recall staring at the basantabouri(a yellow colored bird) sitting on the branch of the tree in the garden…I stare in mute astonishment, she’s too indignant shifting from one branch to the other, I don’t recall how she cooed but I watched her until a slight disturbance that made her fly away…..far off….she never showed her off again…..suddenly alarm rang and I had to shake my dreams out of my hair. Almost everything I cherish is gone. Only left is the memories. That is why I walk down that memory lane time and again.