Broken chord of the song disturbs the harmony synchronized were the notes until the tune fell off the beat! Life plays a duet where we have to sing in accord with the singer of the nature who has the ultimate hand on the chord! Plucks who the strings ripples the water flutters the leaves beats the heart silently on the melodic musical! Being resigned and submissive leaves a blank tone in the birdsong... melodious and philharmonic it becomes when our voice joins in the eternal sinfonia! PHOTOCREDIT:www.sortol.com
Nature truly appears to be at its best here, the place known as the queen of hills. It had been a favorite place of the Britishers during summers, when they ruled India .Fortunately the name of the town didn’t change and it is still know as Ranikhet,sounded sweet and melodious as a beautiful song of the spring!
April 1991 :
This was my first visit to this scenic location which gave the longest view of the Himalayan range.
It was late evening by the time I reached and even in the month of April when the whole of India starts getting scorched by the sun, it was chilling and cold there.
Following day started with a glimpse of the most exhilarating view of the mountain Trishul which stands in the shape of a Trishul, an emblazon weapon carried by Lord Shiva.
The early dawn reflected on the peaks trident and they looked gorgeously golden.
Never had I seen such a pictures queue sight!
Later during the day a walk through the Mall road of the town ,I could feel the warmth of the local people which I experienced during the visit to the local market . Every pedestrian had a smile on his face irrespective of being strangers. The girls had pink crimson cheeks which got more red when they smiled.
There was only a single road which had shops on both sides and which ran for around a kilometer. That was all the place had to offer in its commercial aspect.
Small shops of woolens, grocery, daily needs, cosmetics, a few stationary shops and few vegetable vendors. This was all in the local market besides the handloom outlets which sold the local handmade woolens.
There was a single photostudio, which had the facility of getting clicked, but the developing and printing part was done hundreds of kilometers away down the hills in another city in the plains.
Wonder in which world I lived, it felt like an old version of a filmy town situated in hills but the most beautiful I had ever seen.
My heart instantly had fallen in love with this enchanting place amidst the pine and fir trees.
The carved fir cones looked magnificent on the branches and were a piece of delight when fallen and collected by anyone.
The air I breathed had a pure smell and was fragrant with resins secreted by the fir trees, which was used to make turpentine oil! There were conical shaped tins attached to most of the trees to collect the falling gum from the slits made on the trunk. The scattered fir leaves formed a golden carpet on the slopes which was actually very slippery when I tried walking on it.
To be contd….
With the enormous waterfall of the heart
outpouring the waters in a cascaded form,
white sparkling ,turbulent flow,
a touch there …
you will be carried away
with the stream
for miles and miles more…
eroding the soil ,washing the land
of saddened miseries
fresh earth resurfaces ,
ready to sow seeds of faith
with new hope through HIS hands…
the water incessantly follows the course,
current speeding with an urge more
for the confluence
with the divine ocean
dissolves the tiny atoms
of ego and despair …
Vanishes the identity ,
forgets the being,
in THY name
proclaims his living …
The legend of Amrapali is a vast subject of Indian history which covers the biographies of many kings and the danseuse Amrapali,who turned onto the spiritual path after seeing several miseries of life involving power,riches and love.This is just an excerpt from her life.
In the historical city of Vaishali , lived a demure maiden Amrapallli,
renowned for her entrancing charms, her dance wooed thousands of hearts warm,
of lands far away from territory ,enemies too knew and adored her enamoring ,
a royal court dancer of the state,she enjoyed the attention and luxury unrestrained.
Once a war waged with a neighborly realm, a foe disguised entered the gates of her chamber,
she rescued and cared him,
King Bimbisara, the mighty king of Magadha ,she came to know was the being,
turning aside instantly she asked him to stop the waging war….
Promised her he held the flag of peace for the enemy in chance,
people outraged in vengeance for a king who fell for her charms…
Ajatashatru,the haughty son of Bimbisara invaded the kingdom been glorious so far,
turning to ashes the city of dreams,
no life was spared to live and was killed,
Hurt and heart broken Amrapalli ,found herself in tears of agony,
took refuge in the spiritual path of destiny…
one day a holy monk came at her door,
she invited him inside her home…
to serve him with respect and devotion…
Talked everyone about the forbidden law of prohibition,
how did Buddha the great ,went inside the courtesan’s house?
His magnanimity showered, her eyes opened ,
surrendered herself to the cultism,
in feet of the enlightened soul…
Sacrificing riches,fame and comfort,
beauteous wonder of the creation,
walked on the divine path
seeking peace and solace in god’s words and charm.
A hope sits on the window sill every morning after the night darkening, With a straw of happiness in her beak to build a nest of compassionate dream… Persistent in her efforts, continuously she flies and gathers, each single strand of luck, with sincere diligent fervor. Sometimes bruised ,hurt or scratched, still then manages to fly with her broken wings of thoughts yet another golden morn! A hope I find chirping everyday singing a melody being happy and gay, sitting on my window sill every morning as I wake… PHOTOCREDIT:www.rspb.org.uk
PHOTOCREDIT:gregbenzphotography.com Running amongst the golden weeds brushed I, my arms over them, sighed they and said "Oh! wondrous one! Where do you flee in haste!"
To my love ! the one who awaits, there ,in the meadows of the verdure, whose breath caresses my hair!
"Wait here for few moments Peace never reigns in love tranquil here is the atmosphere choose me to your companion!"
Smilingly I kiss the weeds, flowers wild, intoxicating me to sleep, I answer , "velvet carpet ...of which you're the king, pricks my soft skin of allegiance, my soul hath known only the sunflower to be my connoisseur".
Written for Ermilia’s blog:http://wp.me/p1HrCI-14o “PICTURE IT AND WRITE”
The mirror of life ornamental , exquisitely intricate, reflection is distinct and clear, you glow the skin radiates the milky white softness of scintillating cleavage clear! Alas ! The wondrous pattern of life remains always hidden, bedecked on your gorgeous back it is a mystery forever... neither it explicates the logic... nor the reason of getting allured... beautiful butterflies fly and allude trying to convey a message unclear! Hitherto there's no mirror at the rear, to exhibit the truth surreal Paint a face of vibrant colors virtually visible to every peer!
PHOTOCREDIT:www.behance.net flipping I flew kissing your cheeks With my soft wings I fluttered and encircled you shrouding from the scorched ray of sorrow... wings of desire emerged A butterfly I transformed into from a caterpillar... magical touch yours was the gift of love I welcomed from the darkness I sprung ... watching you philander and I being coquette for your pleasure! -------------------------------- Written for Edward's blog: Romantic Monday
WRITTEN FOR TRIFECTA CHALLENGE: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/04/trifecta-week-seventy-two.html
enamoured is the beholder
mesmeric beauty of
fair long fingers…
to feel the
touch of the texture…
I bow and ask
for her hand
with romantic gesture!
With grace she places
her hand in my palm
accepting my humble love
Astounded I get
by the hypnotism
as I notice the gorgeous fingers
an alchemy of love
as petals of lotus!