“Mountains are earth’s undecaying monuments” N.Hawthorne .
Having lived my formative years in the north of India, where you either freeze with the icy draughts from the neighboring hills in winter or sweat your pores out in the scalding’ lou’, [the merciless summer wind!], mountains mean much more than that. They lure, they beckon, they entice, they hypnotize with their mist-laden aura. Their lofty, towering heights hold the enigma of eternity, mapped right across their bewitching valleys and spurs.
The first whiff of mountain air, intoxicated with its own pine-infused fragrance, sets my pulse racing. The flora and fauna get prettier, the trees more loving and the birds more colorful.; the crows are blacker and they even caw louder! The jungle fowl, scurry busily in the shrubs with the mountain goat and wild hare . The winter wren, the Asian barred owlet, the blue bearded bee-eater, the black rumped flame back woodpecker, enamor you with their guileless prancing and preening. As you climb higher the wild daisies and primroses are endearingly splattered on the hillsides like nature’s own jewels. The chameleon plant, the temple magnolia, the rhododendron, the devil’s tongue, the Chinese cobra lily, the fox brush orchid shout out to me. I could live life in a hermitage with the spring water gurgling in my ears and the soaring eagle, precariously perched on the sky-high, jagged rock walls.
The colossal Himalayan heights with their formidable passes, snow-packed and beguiling, mysterious and foggy, ghostly and challenging. Who would not listen to the call of the ”sentinels ” of India..’Parbat woh sab se ooncha , humsaaya aasmaan ka ; woh santri hamara , woh paasbaan hamaara”. The Himalayan odyssey must be felt. The heart-stopping sunrises and jaw-dropping sunsets can never cease to allure me . The wanderlust begins to itch.
Great things are done when men and mountains meet. Enlightenment and peace descend in the resounding silence …….”sohni sohni shimle di sadkaan jinde , kaali ghaghri liyaya ho”The sweet and melancholy, entreating music from the ”baansuri”, is the hill lads,’ private passion. It makes the echoes in the hills, plaintive and sad.”parbaton ke pedon par, shaam ka basera hai ,surmayi ujaala hai , champayi andhera hai……”
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