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Pristine Peaks: The Vanishing Silence of the Himalayas

Many, many moons ago,
Serenity was deeply tattooed
In the bosom of the Himalayas.
A ubiquitous, still silence pervaded with
A thick blanket.
Except for the drip, drip of snowfall
And the roar or rustle of the Wind God.

The still Himalayan ranges hardly saw
The two-footed species, bringing
His spears,
And the bloated hut on it.
Except for a sage in meditative
Pose.

Silence floated with a mellifluous grace.
Snow bodies bathed in the mellow sunrays.
The few animals at the foothills didn’t
have to run in haste,
Sensing danger in their pace.

Peace reigned supreme, coated with bliss,
The trees murmured as the zephyr kissed.
Clouds roamed, at times in frenzied chase
When the winds blew their trumpet in a loud craze.

Somewhere, the idea of peak conquest emerged
The two-footed species gripped the thought
Standing tall on the heads of the different ranges.
And plant flags of victory slogans.

Armed with equipment, their ravage began.
The Himalayas stand mute to their invasion.
Places of solitude see a brutal march.
And heaps of junk and debris, lined with accumulation.

Bodies, things, tents, human waste,
Are the gifts left behind on its surface?
Ice bodies carry the filth to the rivers and
then proceed towards the ocean.
The Himalayas weep to see stains on the mouths of
her gurgling rivers.

Swelled with pride, the mountaineers mount the heights.
After all, they have invested grand amounts
in this herculean cause.
While they speak of their bravery and accomplishments.
The Himalayan ranges quiver at the realisation
That serenity and pristineness dispersed without
A proper goodbye to all its other companions.


Picture design by Anumita Roy

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