Towards the Source of the River Ganges
To run off from the rut
We take to travel across
the rift-valleys of the Himalayas
for plundering its charm
and prospering with a peace of soul,
roving up and down and round
though it made us retch at times;
hearing the noise of the rills,
gushng over rocks and boulders
and dozing often in the breeze
sliding over the green slopes
and bathing in the waters of the Ganges
and breathing solace around.
The shooting stones over the moraine
slip them down sending above
the clouds of dusts
to shroud the houses below
and strike fear into us on looking at them.
The drizzle mizzle
on the russet coloured apples
and thrill them to be sweet
as the hill dwellers are!
We smelt the odour of the apple-orchards
wafted to us by the breeze.
A monkey jumped on the roof of a car
with its nestling kid and travelled
looking back and forth.
A buffalo fed its new born calf
in the shades of a tree
while its keeper was in a deep sleep
listing to the lullaby of the brooks.
If I were a cuckoo
I would sing the charm of these vales
perching on some sky-high tree.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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