Himalayas my tribute

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Himalayas is a range of mountains very dear to the soul of India ,for it was here that noble ideals were nurtured by the innumerable spiritual giants who inhabited its virgin heights and forests ,its magnificence is unparalleled ,its vistas rise above the constraints of humanity soaring into spiritual peaks unsurpassed ,Its geographical vastness is mighty as it extends for vast distances and it peaks soar into heaven itself touching divinity .I have been lucky to visit some places in its heights over time and those experiences have enthralled me and awed me to humility !,be it in snowy Darjeeling with a chugging mountain train hopping along over the quaint Batala loop ,or the winding road along the Teesta river to green Sikkim with its esoteric Buddhist monasteries perched on doughty heights ,be it the frozen Chongo lake 16000 feet above Gangtok where we saw a shirtless swami walking on the icy lake or the Nathulla pass where Chinese soldiers give a friendly wave from their lofty posts ,be it the huge boulders that threaten to decimate ones puny presence along the the treacherous road leading to the Sela pass at 14500 feet or the Tawang valley that quaint little town one stays before pushing on the Madhuri lake where Shah Rukh had frolicked with Madhuri in koyla the film , one cannot forget the hardy trip up to the origin of the river Yamuna gurgling with ferocity as it rolled down the hills to water the plains

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

or the oxygen starved holy city of Kedarnath filled with ash covered Naga swamis for whom neither cold nor heat matters ,the enchanting environs of Bhadrinath peak with its steamy hot pools spewing from the fretful and perky Alagnanda river ,be the hidden ribbon of the much elusive river Saraswati flowing far below amongst the hidden rocks and travelling under the bowels of the earth and to effortlessly merge with the Triveni at Allahabad thousands of kilometers away in the plains ,be it the lakshman jhoola of Rishiskesh which gently sways in the freezing winds ,the bright arathis of dusk and flowing lamps on mother ganga in Haridwar ,be it the climbing steps of Vaishnodevi where devotees chant and climb and chant again , or the foggy peaks of Rohtang pass where the snow and ice gives one a bleary visual of the world at large ,be it the elite Doon school at Dehradoon or the snow filled Mussorie hill station where an elderly Ruskin bond thinks and writes ,be it the land of beauty the paradise on earth Kashmir valley the lazy ride in its shikaras in the Dal lake or the boulders in Pathankot over which water tumbles or the tea drunk in the heights of Gulmarg ,,be it the rainy Chirapunjee or the colonial club in Shillong ,be it the army officers mess in Udhampur where we slept like lambs in bliss ,be it the country cottage in the CRPF camp where a log of fire burnt to keep us warm at Patnitopor the temples in Srinagar town in Uttarkhand where we bought coloured stones from gypsies my love for the Himalayas will never die though I had been only to small parts of

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 or the oxygen starved holy city of Kedarnath filled with ash covered Naga swamis for whom neither cold nor heat matters ,the enchanting environs of Bhadrinath peak with its steamy hot pools spewing from the fretful and perky Alagnanda river ,be the hidden ribbon of the much elusive river Saraswati flowing far below amongst the hidden rocks and travelling under the bowels of the earth and to effortlessly merge with the Triveni at Allahabad thousands of kilometers away in the plains ,be it the lakshman jhoola of Rishiskesh which gently sways in the freezing winds ,the bright arathis of dusk and flowing lamps on mother ganga in Haridwar ,be it the climbing steps of Vaishnodevi where devotees chant and climb and chant again , or the foggy peaks of Rohtang pass where the snow and ice gives one a bleary visual of the world at large ,be it the elite Doon school at Dehradoon or the snow filled Mussorie hill station where an elderly Ruskin bond thinks and writes ,be it the land of beauty the paradise on earth Kashmir valley the lazy ride in its shikaras in the Dal lake or the boulders in Pathankot over which water tumbles or the tea drunk in the heights of Gulmarg ,,be it the rainy Chirapunjee or the colonial club in Shillong ,be it the army officers mess in Udhampur where we slept like lambs in bliss ,be it the country cottage in the CRPF camp where a log of fire burnt to keep us warm at Patnitopor the temples in Srinagar town in Uttarkhand where we bought coloured stones from gypsies my love for the Himalayas will never die though I had been only to small parts of its great magnificence