Kalimpong Revisited

From the “Hill Top”

If my act sans Nirvana in the life yet to come:

My Self won’t brood, if You make me a grant:

That I be born on this Hill Top garden,

Amidst this burgeoning green

And blossoming flower plants.

Sprite me in a butterfly shaded as one with the peonies;

A vibrant bumble bee, more honey to store than my hive would please.

You can make me a beetle, dancing on a blade of grass;

Or, one among the crickets humming in the forest dark.

All my karma of this birth, be an account for what next to be.

 Be it a speck of a life:

Spent hovering over the Nature’s blooming vase;

 As a sparkling dew crystal, slipping down a pine tree;

 Or clustered in a day’s blossom, to be squashed under your feet. 

Be it a life of ignorance lived without knowing

Even that horse-shoe curving a few steps down the hill.

Indeed! It would be a life more fulfilling than that we civilized live,

In the jungle named ----------Society.

Yes, this is how I felt when I went to Kalimpong for the first time, ten years back. Then we had put up at The Hill Top Lodge which is undertaken by the West Bengal Government. It is situated on the Durpin hill of Kalimgpong. And I wrote these lines in reminiscence of this untamed natural beauty. The wooden octagonal rooms with glass pane windows of this lodge almost made us live the pages of Romantic Victorian Novels.

  As many of you know, Kalimgpong is a hill station in West Bengal which is slightly lower in altitude than Darjeeling. Although it is less famous than its cousin, it has gained much repute for its educational institutions, many of which were established during the British colonial period. One such school that has a rich legacy is The Graham’s Home.

This underrated hill station has much more than you can expect. And like me, you would feel like visiting this place again and again, especially for its serenity and pristine natural beauty. And this feeling was reassured when I revisited this small town with dense forest and rich heritage, for the second time. The child in my mature prosaic self was reborn.

We went straight to Kalimgong from NJP station. First we visited The Cactus Garden. They

too have boarding facility amidst a thriving nursery containing rare orchids and variety of cactus. We did not stay here. We wheeled towards Durpin Monastery for some spiritual bliss. Then after picking some bakery products from 3Cs (a must visit shop in Kalingpong for its delectable freshly baked items) we headed towards our destination.

Cactus from Cactus garden

cactus from cactus garden

cactus from cactus garden

cactus from cactus garden

Durpin Monastery

This time we stayed at Deolo Lodge atop the Deolo Hill. This lodge is undertaken by the Gorkha Hill Council. Here when the gates opened for us we felt that we were led into “The Far Far Away” land of the fairy tales. Yes, my heart skipped a beat to see the plush green meadows embedded with vibrant varieties of peonies, money plants and pruned hedges. Unlike the untamed beauty of The Hill Top Lodge, Deolo Lodge is a like neatly decked up maiden whose maidenhood has been vigilantly guarded by her knights.

Without spending much time in the cozy rooms of the lodge built in the model of British Mansion, lest we get consumed by the comfort, we sprang out to explore. It was around 5 in the evening. Soon it would be the evening twilight followed by a full moon night. We ambled through the meadows, past the tears of meditative pine trees till the edge of the cliff in order to catch up with the setting sun. But we had another important objective----- imbibing positive energy from the Mother Nature. And standing at the highest view point I could almost speak to her and her children:

Do you remember me?  I came here before.

And much before than that.

In some ancient form, known or unknown to man.

 You were still here:

 The towering pine trees across the soaring mountains.

Only that, now you are lesser in number, standing after withstanding the blows,

Scattered across the bulldozered peaks.

At least few of you stand, holding hands at the gate way to the God’s abode.

  The God of all flora and fauna: clad in the tiger hide.

He is chanting the hymns of divine harmony in his meditative mind.

For which you are still here and I exist in a half life

In a world far far away from yours….

But in deep reminiscence, confused;

 I leap into your arms----- again and again.

But like an echo, these moments fade away.

The sun is sinking, making his way for the placid moon;

Changing your green, from golden to silver hue.

The crickets are singing louder as some secret flowers awake,

While you brood on ancient thoughts that my naive mind can barely relate.   

All I can recollect: I was here several times.

For I drew you deeper, darker and more colourful on my colouring book.

I know, once you were so; when maybe I was a beetle, bird or a butterfly.

Or was I a hunter? That is why; I am no longer one among you?

At times wandering away from you, burdened by the heavy axe of guilt:

Perplexed and unaware, deluded and tangled;

Although I leap into your arms----- again and again.

But like an echo, these moments fade away.

Now the sky has put on its sombre cloak

And the Queen Moon is sitting on her throne

Whispering tales to all her earthly folks.

To you, the flowers, the grass, the birds the fishes the beasts…..

I realise, I am one with you;

For I too can listen to the lays of pain and endurance

 And shed misty tears of remorse but promised reassurance;

As I leap into your arms----- again and again.

But like an echo, these moments fade away.

 It is sun rise. And the world is still thick in mist.

So thick that I can’t see, not even you.

May be because of my heavy heart.

But my soul is cleansed by the morning dew.

And now I am sure.

With the sun shine my vision has cleared.

Like always, shivering with joy

 I leap into your arms----- again and again.

But like an echo, these moments fade away.

It is time for my retreat…. Back to the mundane.

Would you remember me when I come here again?

Maybe in the same form----adding a haunch, with a wrinkled face.                                      

Or maybe, not as what you can see me in this birth.

But I shall leap into your arms----- again and again.

Till the time, like an echo, these moments won’t fade away.

   

………………………………………..This is how my poetry came back to me again.

* photo courtesy: Anubhav Bhattacharya and Yours truly.


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