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The pink radiance
I am sitting in the back of an SUV thundering down the bumpy, curvy road bound to Darjeeling. The cool winds greet my uncovered ears getting colder every minute. I adjust myself to have least hindrance to the view. Oh! The view, I can never forget those moments of bliss, that tumult of emotions, the overflowing twin dams and the inexhaustible gratitude which mighty and beautiful Himalayas inspire in mortals just like themselves.
The coniferous forest is basking in the wintry sunlight. Each and every moment, something sparkles, my pulse races and disappears. Having been taught to hate pink stuff all my life, my stereotypes are about to be challenged now. I look towards the sky and encounter a pink radiance emanating from the yellow ochre sun. It spreads through the cold blue chambers of the sky like the warmth of love, transforming reality. The magic riding on rays of light enters my soul through doors of eyes. As usual in these moments of bliss, I am tormented by my mind, luring me in shiny old corridors of thought with the promise of creative nostalgia.
I close my eyes, and in the mind’s eye a pair of lovely eyes swim into view, as if the sky had two suns, but I am known for other things than accuracy. A blazing fire contents in the bouncy eyeballs giving instantaneous warmth to the beholder like the winter sun in the frosty wind. The pink radiance is spread on the rosy cheeks encompassing the whole world in their domes. The eyes twinkle, the cool sun smiles, the sky looms larger and the cheeks spread and dip playing with the heart of the gazer. The flowing radiance is obstructed in its course by impetuous strands of hair who dare to mischief just by existing in the form of pine trees digging deep into the sharp and gentle slopes, silhouetted gray and black against the tricking horizon. The misty vapor rises from her lips in the cold air just like white smoke ascending the hill from seemingly burning valleys.
The car takes turns and for some time, the ethereal view is blocked by man-made structures as if society rules were preventing me from drowning in those lakes of mystery. My feverish hands join together, shivering lips chant a prayer, requesting God to keep it there and to keep her happy. When the blockades are gone and it is still there, I heave a sigh of relief and bow expressing thankfulness on having received the best of fortunes. But …
A lingering sadness etches across my heart, it reminds me that this will end and she will be angry one day, turning her eyes away from me. Now, see this, O great attestors! The sun’s getting white every second and the blazing fire is unhappy with something. Slowly they seemed to gather, but in one blink of an eye, they start covering the white source, those dark streaks of cloud being aware of the emotions like long eyelashes protecting the gateway to bliss. I have lost it now and I have lost her again, remorse and regret fill me with despair. The darkness spreads in the sky, driving away the pink radiance dissolving in the black forest as the head turns away from me, the open volumes of luxurious hair declaring to the world filled with naïve optimism that night has descended.
© AbhinavUpadhyayPoet
The coniferous forest is basking in the wintry sunlight. Each and every moment, something sparkles, my pulse races and disappears. Having been taught to hate pink stuff all my life, my stereotypes are about to be challenged now. I look towards the sky and encounter a pink radiance emanating from the yellow ochre sun. It spreads through the cold blue chambers of the sky like the warmth of love, transforming reality. The magic riding on rays of light enters my soul through doors of eyes. As usual in these moments of bliss, I am tormented by my mind, luring me in shiny old corridors of thought with the promise of creative nostalgia.
I close my eyes, and in the mind’s eye a pair of lovely eyes swim into view, as if the sky had two suns, but I am known for other things than accuracy. A blazing fire contents in the bouncy eyeballs giving instantaneous warmth to the beholder like the winter sun in the frosty wind. The pink radiance is spread on the rosy cheeks encompassing the whole world in their domes. The eyes twinkle, the cool sun smiles, the sky looms larger and the cheeks spread and dip playing with the heart of the gazer. The flowing radiance is obstructed in its course by impetuous strands of hair who dare to mischief just by existing in the form of pine trees digging deep into the sharp and gentle slopes, silhouetted gray and black against the tricking horizon. The misty vapor rises from her lips in the cold air just like white smoke ascending the hill from seemingly burning valleys.
The car takes turns and for some time, the ethereal view is blocked by man-made structures as if society rules were preventing me from drowning in those lakes of mystery. My feverish hands join together, shivering lips chant a prayer, requesting God to keep it there and to keep her happy. When the blockades are gone and it is still there, I heave a sigh of relief and bow expressing thankfulness on having received the best of fortunes. But …
A lingering sadness etches across my heart, it reminds me that this will end and she will be angry one day, turning her eyes away from me. Now, see this, O great attestors! The sun’s getting white every second and the blazing fire is unhappy with something. Slowly they seemed to gather, but in one blink of an eye, they start covering the white source, those dark streaks of cloud being aware of the emotions like long eyelashes protecting the gateway to bliss. I have lost it now and I have lost her again, remorse and regret fill me with despair. The darkness spreads in the sky, driving away the pink radiance dissolving in the black forest as the head turns away from me, the open volumes of luxurious hair declaring to the world filled with naïve optimism that night has descended.
© AbhinavUpadhyayPoet
