A New
Year Eve love letter to my ‘dearest’
Hi dearest,
I
love you dearly … I always have. Who wouldn’t? Anyone who comes visiting you,
whether by chance or by choice, falls under your seductive spell. Myriad and
many are your charms. Your graceful curves and slopes are gentle and inviting. The
wide grin you often wear captivates all. You appear so bright and balmy when
the benevolent sun, neither too hot in summers, nor freezingly cold in winters,
showers its warm kisses on your wonderous parts. My sore eyes never tire of
feasting on your form and looks as you lie sprawled in blissful splendour on
the sumptuous, bountiful lap of our ‘Grandad’: His majesty, the Dhauladhar. Wow!
How I adore his resplendent crown of glittering silver! I also marvel at
his big and vast ‘56-inch-ka-seena’ that he proudly displays but
without any empty boast. With love and care he guards you, caresses you
and makes you smile and stay protected. But at times I often see him grey,
forlorn and morose, sometimes raging mad even, as he beholds your sad
countenance and tear-smattered face, your wounds and hurts that vile human hand
inflicts on you.
Many
a snow-cooled stream merrily gurgling the song of love extolling your beauty,
washes your flanks and feet to keep you perky and jovial. Their mom, river Neugal that trapezes by, keeps you unspoilt, pure and pristine as she swallows both:
your sorrows and man’s egregious sins; and, in her soothing voice, lullabies you
to a restful sleep. To me though, her incessant raag at times sounds
like a sigh of lament over mounting assaults on your fine features and assets …
your rape and plunder almost on a daily basis by unscrupulous, greedy man.
Beautiful is the verdant wear that clothes
your nimble limbs, your bust and body. Whenever I steal amorous looks at you, I
feel mesmerised. However, to my utter disgust, I also notice with a shudder,
your luxurious attire torn and shredded at places exposing the bleeding gashes-
some on your face, some over your torso.
Tall
and majestic deodars are your priceless assets that adorn you. Erect and high
they stand- eternally silent in penance, praying to the Almighty for your
well-being. Cheery Pines sway their green brooms and send whiffs of scented air
to cool and soothe your sweaty brow. But being axed and felled every day, as their
numbers dwindle, the former’s enfeebled prayers do not reach gods; and the
pine-breezes too die out and lose their way, leaving you weary, parched and
hot.
Birds,
dressed in rainbow hues, flit about, twitter and chirp, full of joy and
happiness, feeling blessed for the many gifts you bestow on them: fruits,
berries, sun and shade and nests and homes. Their naughty pranks, playful
manners and sweet little songs make you smile and dance. But did you not see,
their sweet melodies often fading into mournful numbers, these days? For,
believe me, they too are sorry for you- over man’s misdemeanours besmirching
your youth and beauty.
Lovely
are the tea gardens that carpet your bed and make you look salubrious. Oh, how
we savour their April crop of two-leaves-and-a-bud for our hot, steamy brew
with its intoxicating aroma! However, I hide my face in shame when each day I
see them shrinking- yielding to the axe and saw of rapacious man.
*
You
dwell in my dreams, O beauteous, wonderous YOU! When I go away from you,
feeling nostalgic, I pine for you and wistfully hum the popular Pahari folk
song “…jeena Kangre da…”. When I return and embrace you, my heart leaps with
joy and it showers a thousand kisses on you, praying for your health and bliss.
I
wish you a Happy New Year ‘24! May you - my dearest - always stay green and
balmy, O PALAMPUR!
***
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