There were the Western Ghats, bursting throught the bellies of which were leaves, branches and roots; of every concievable shade of green, though now with a lazy stroke  of dusk rendering them a sort of hopelessly beautiful, tragic quality, with the promise that the night was about to come... or maybe hopefully beautiful haunted quality of the promise of the morning that will eventually chase away the night.

There was some mist hanging across them- like the veil of something that needs protection (not everyone will find it easy to believe that something as tough as mountains need protection in the form of a gauzy lacework of clouds and mists,though). And right across the heart of the mountains hung this infinitely fragile threadwork of diamonds- molten diamonds (if anyone has ever heard of melting diamonds), trickling like beads of prayer. This was the most beautiful present the monsoons decorated the Ghats with. Yes, it was the most beautiful waterfall.

Why, when one sees a watefall (water fall) across rocks, one feels joy, longing, beauty, hope and sadness all at once?

a sheet
of drizzles across my misted window

a trickle
of the waterfalls that flow

a sound
of the word  unsaid

a beam
of sunlight on my bed

a beginning
at the beginning of time

a blessing
of your hands in mine

a moment
of realization of our dreams

a sigh
that surpasses all our screams

a you
who could make my life

a me
who could be your wife

a love
that like silences and words will grow

a life
that through ethers, spaces and time will flow


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  2. Beautiful. You have captured the beauty of Western Ghats well.

    And you are prolific: 12 blogs in 2 months. Sigh! I haven't written in ages. Reform required. :)

  3. It's nice. Is this what you wrote on your train journey from Mumbai to Pune?

  4. reminds me of nilgiris... just took a trip there. it was heavenly