That
enchanting February morn
I
have pitched my time-worn tent in the historical city of Hyderabad these days.
But what an exquisite morn it was when I left the Palampur shores in late
February! As my fellow residents know,
Palampur is hardly any Eden of bliss at this time of year. This is rather a dreary
month of cold and chill; of grey, grim, rumbling skies hushing us mostly
indoors to lie curled up under our rajais or perched before heaters.
After
wrenching free from home, especially from the weak-armed yet tight hug of a
90-year-old mom, I was barely a few minutes on the road to Gaggal airport when
the benign, reassuring face of our big Grandad, the Dhauladhar, beaming its
pearly, glittery smile came in view. Dawn attired in shifting hues of gold,
amber and silver had just broken. Might there be some celestial lake in the
unseen heavens somewhere where it had had its dip-and-swim to look so
dazzlingly magnificent? I wondered, spellbound. Whiffs of breeze that caressed
my face had a little nip-and-bite of February that felt more sensuous than
hurtful. It seemed as if wet-kissed by the morning dew, the air was being a
little coquettish, whispering its shy mirth at the imminent prospect of a
rendezvous between the resplendent sun and the expectant earth turned prim with
anticipation; and the ‘Grandad’ flaunting its broad, green breast and lofty
white peaks was winking at the vast blue sky above, nursing a wide grin of
ecstasy.
Entranced,
I fell into a prayer: Oh ye glorious
dawn! Oh ye celestial beauty from heavens! I salute thee. I salute thy
loveliness; thy radiant charm. And I pray unto thee: Endow me a wisp of thy
balmy smile so I may vanquish the penury of my pitiful soul, and bring cheer to
a tearful human eye. Gift me a leaf-and-petal of thy unfolding blossom, so I
may turn the arid desert of loneliness in my soul into a garden and spread thy
beauty and fragrance all around. Shine on me a tiny ray of thy sprouting youth
so I may re-power my zeal and zest to counter the vicissitudes of life with
courage and hope, and extend my hand to the weak. Grant me thy brightness a little
so I may dispel the brooding darkness of ignorance, hatred and intolerance
that pervades my soul, and spread the incandescence of your All-Encompassing
Love everywhere. Lend me thy dazzle and heat a wee bit, so I may dissipate my
clouds of sorrow, and heal the pain and suffering of those around.
Lastly,
bestow on me the boon of being re-born every day resplendent like you, so, full
of joie de vivre, I may forever sing psalms in praise of thee …
A
few silent moments of meditative, dreamy, self-indulgent exuberance had thus ‘tick-tocked’
by when my reverie was broken by the mounting worldly cacophony: Anthropocene man was waking up for the day’s
usual drill - some good, some not - but
mostly all against Nature. Some more hoots and horns, and I was at the airport.
With
one final goodbye-look and a silent bow to the magnificence of the Dhauladhar
while trundling along to the waiting craft, I was soon soaring high in the
skies wistfully savouring the beauty of the receding hills of my ‘pyara watan’
making me wistfully recall the captivating song from ‘Kabuliwala’, soulfully
sung by Manna Dey: “Ae mere pyare watan …tujh pe dil kurbaan…”
As
days go by, the longing to return mounts: longing to salute the dawn and be under the blessing hand of the ‘Grandad’!
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