Let the clouds unveil
Desirous fiestas in blue
In delicious azure hues
Let me savor summer
Shining through dewdrops
Cover myself in crystals
Pouring from the skies
Indulge in the petrichor
Capture the essence
Of rain-soaked colors
Burnt umber in the glare
Of the monsoon sun
For August is here;
Can autumn be far behind?
June 8, 2017 – Winding up our site-seeing, we reached our cosy hotel-with-a-view in Gangtok from Lachung in Sikkim. Our intent was to shop, laze around, relax in the night, devour a leisurely breakfast buffet the next morning, drive down back to Bagdogra, and fly back home in the evening. In Gangtok, we heard murmurs of violence in Darjeeling, West Bengal. An agitation was brewing against the alleged imposition of Bengali language on the locals.
We were advised to leave early the next day to catch our flight from Bagdogra. Later that evening, at MG Road, jam packed with tourists, the atmosphere was tense. People enquired about the proclaimed bandh on June 9, and asked if they should drive back to Bagdogra in the night, instead of the morning. Tourists queued up at ATMs. It was difficult to get into the narrow offices of any of the cab-services providers.
Continue reading “Vacation Interrupted – Sikkim, 2017 – Part 3”
They run through
The sunlit grove
Summer in their hair
Sweat clinging to strands
Sun-kissed now
Sunburnt at dusk
It bothers not much
For childhood is about
Fruit orchards
Yellow fields
An amusing prank here
A scraped knee there
Making memories
Before the sun sets!
Gulmohar trees swaying
In the summer heat
Tawny branches bursting
With fiery flowers,
Crimson petals carpeting
The gray gravel road
Gleefully picked up
For sword fights
With tender stamens;
The tiny tip breaking free
In innocent games
Losers none, all winners be!
Green sepals become
Fake nails in child’s play
It is all beautiful, speckled
Like colors of tomorrow!
A burst of tanginess
Tingling the soul,
Children head home
Chewing sepals, petals;
Just a flower, so much to give
Until it melts – orange, blue
All comes to rest, in dusky hue!
It was a sultry afternoon. The day stretched endlessly, waiting for twilight. The orange popsicles stained his tongue but didn’t quench his thirst. He wasn’t sleepy for lack of physical activity. He read books, heard songs on his laptop, played mobile games but time stood still, fatigued by the heat of the Indian summer.
Bored, he picked up his drawing kit and started sketching a treasure map to reach the fabled pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He drew ardently, painstakingly filling vibrant colours in the verdant landscape, flora, and fauna. The emerging terrain captivated him. He paid attention to every tiny detail. The sound of wax crayons against white paper, echoed the unstoppable rhythm in his delicate fingers.
Beyond the tanned mountains, arched the seven colors of mystic beauty. At the corner of the sheet, a speck glimmered. He added final touches to the elusive gold and rested the point of his crayon, in a finishing move, just as the first star of the night rose in the burnished horizon. In the twinkle of its light, with sweat beads on his brow, he sailed through the azure skies, having fallen from the edge of the map.
Blue Pen Strokes 