Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Far, yet so near

500 kms separate us.
An overnight journey by bus.
Tiring, exhausting, yet refreshing to the core.
The warm embrace of my folks.
The pristine greens. Lush and verdant hills.
Icy cold mineral water of rivulets.
The songs and rhythms of Beas flowing in my veins.
I grew up with the beat of mountainous life.
And I am grateful that it has stayed with me.
We may be miles apart today.
Yet every single breath, every single heart beat, dwells in the footfalls of hills.
With my people, at my place.
Not here. Not in this temporary make shift arrangement in chaotic capital city.
I belong to rugged terrains and winding circuitous routes.
And I am on my way to my sanctuary.


10 comments:

  1. Wow..it is so vivid..I could actually visualise and feel

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  2. I love how home always stays home. It doesn't matter where you settle or end up, it always stays with you. Thanks for sharing.

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  3. I am 3000 miles from my parents, so I hear you.

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  4. Wonderful to feel so welcomed and warm and refreshed.

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  5. I posted a comment...not sure if it is in moderation or not.

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    Replies
    1. Hi Meg ... I have not enabled moderation on this blog so I guess the other comment did not get published. But nevertheless, it is still good to hear from you.

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.