The
lonely hike has always been a treat to those who gets enriched in lone being.
For me, this walk was for my living the lives I have never had, which I seek
everytime to empathize in self portrayal.
Here I
name a place which is a song itself. the song of hundreds of rustics, where the
lyrics are life and melodies are the breath. I went up to the forested halt,
Ghangharia , there I met a girl of substance yet not a pro. But the real
reflection and pixels of life was full. That girl took me to a hundred year old
story where love resided, lovers lost in non existence. To me it was a long
lost tale but for her a life of yesterday.
There
is a village named Bhyundar, which got its name from a folklore which
still stays in the Garhwal and its wind, water and hills. The girl was on a
regular yearly preparation of a festivity named Nandashtami, the pride of
Bhyundar. She waits for her mate to bring those flowers which had a good omen
"Bhramhakamal". The village is pouring in the joy of the unity and
peacefulness. The lass is sitting by the banks of the Lakshman Ganga, a river
which gives all to them and they have never been ungrateful to it. The beauty
of the stream could not made her consoled but her eyes were on the slopes from
where her man will come.
Joy is to
her that , she places her head on his lap, and hum a bit , it was her
world , incomparable to the different worlds of luxury. The shower is bringing
its zeal to the stream and her heart beats as trembles the body from
within.
Among the
clouds and rain shower, from an unseen land, the man comes up with a heap of
God's message on his back. This is the most soothing green to her eyes. Tears
could burst but the upcoming start ups of festival blushes her out immensely.
It is a poem of anthology of Bhyundar. Poetry was there on the eyes of hope and
despair, and even in the empty trembling hands of that girl. It is a clear
afternoon now, the snows are peeking through the valley sides, this beauty was
a familiar treat to the people of Bhyundar, some rejoiced with it, some blamed
it for their fate or hardship.
Beauty of
nature has its cost of contradiction, that she knows very well but her mate is
on the way to live another life which he has dreamt all over his being.
Opinions hardly collide and they merely win in front of the vast love. They go
to their home from where one can see that hollow sky with infinite wishes,
after preparing things in the "pakka" temple. sitting by the window
pane, her man sing the Garhwali song which is being sent to that skyscape
of limits and unlimited desires. Hollow sky is not reciprocating , she does not
know about that.
Sleeping
on the wooden floor with their hands as the most comfortable pillow, weaving is
being completed of their future moments, though they know all are uncertain and
even their existence but tangled love which is all over their being is now
gasping but in pleasure.
A night
as dark as the blackhole but not a magnet, is bringing rain into the village, every
drop feels so heavy on the positivity. All are trying to make their ways into
the chaos of confusion.
The girl
wakes up, and can not see him beside her, she is searching him like
lunatic.
Cries
are inferior to the Nature, that gusting wind is making everybody
understood of its power of mercilessness. She suddenly looks up to the other
side of the river. There she sees him, but Lakshman Ganga and Bhyundar Ganga's
confluence washes out every sight she could see. Houses are floating
like leaves and dreams too in that water. A sudden silence kill everybody
there, and for her , life stops as heart stops for her man.
That
night changed everything for her, she became a hollow. Those vast open
eyes I could see and could feel. It is never end. like sorrow, happiness
too. Now people go by the prior village and those unseen eyes can
not see , and it is not meant to be seen by all, you will see if u seek to .
Now she comes to Ghangharia everyday to work for an NGO, Life did not end but a
sorrow is living by that stream.
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