In a sedan, on the way to the Himalayas.
Curvy twisty roads through mountains black, barren and mighty
Through Himalayan cedar and pine draped valley,
we drifted like ants over a giant canvas.

Calm and strong, the turquoise colored Bhagirathi,
carving out its own space beside us.
Hallowed, yet caged by us.
Though tight-lipped today, waiting to break free.




Terraces sculpted with sweat, flourishing villages
We fled past a barefoot gharwal boy, looking bolder,
by the homemade cricket bat on his shoulder,
walking like the king of the Himalayan ranges.




On the way to snow-clad Dayara bugyal, stops our sedan
Greetings!, says a smiling man, 
and leads us on an arduous trek uphill.
To a small mud hut wishing all goodwill.




While we were resting, night dawns, and behold the sight
White mountain peaks shining in the glory of the moonlight.
Hearts shivering, in himalayan breeze shooting spikes of ice,
we step out to the dark woods, enticed by the celestial beauty of the skies.




The full moon makes a royal appearance, gradually rising
from behind the mountains. While my heart is basking,
in the cosmic silence of a Himalayan night,
far from this vexing urban blight.

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