Travel, no doubt makes one experience varied culture, art, cuisines and gives immense satisfaction. But it can also take away precious things from your life. Maybe not always but seldom it can prove to be a taker and not a giver. Who can know better about this two-faced beast called ‘travel’, than a nomad like me coming from a defence background? Isn’t it?
Dalhousie in Himachal has been a generous giver in my case and a sense of nostalgia takes over instantly when the place gets mentioned anywhere and at any time. I could only think of this poem that I had penned last year on reading the prompt ‘#Nostalgic‘…Hope you too get to feel the magnanimity of Dalhousie and the benevolence of the place between these lines!
P.S: Pardon me if this poem reads too messy and consider this as a flow of thought from a novice!
nestled among the charming dhauladhars,
is the quaint town of Dalhousie,
infusing life and vigour into the spirits of the travellers,
when they sneak into the town looking lousy.
far away from the hustle-bustle of the plains,
time tends to stop still in this tiny town,
every other creation of god here has their own plans,
to slog as quick and hard as the slug in brown.
blessed with pines, deodars and oaks,
the charm of this place reminds one: of the English countryside,
it is for the same reason why the lord brought here his flock,
and converted this ‘nature’s gift’ to a town and took it in his stride.
the porches, the ornate entrances, the churches-
the architecture of all are remnants of colonisation.
the memory of pain and torture comes back to haunt the patriots
but then it’s time to forgive the past in this age of globalisation.
the trails to Pauloni amidst the enchanting scenery
or the mass on a sunday at st.francis in the morn,
each one is bound to be enthralled amidst this greenery
as there’s tranquillity and serenity across every corner of this town
the lore of Bose and Tagore are galore in the mall,
making every bengali take pride and flock this place.
thanks to the salubrious surroundings and its call
every nomad who wanders in is bound to get his space.
with a heavy heart as this nomad moves to another place,
I pray to god: “keep intact this town’s sanity and green space and let these buds continue to bloom across the expanse and colour this place,
after all, in the midst of the young minds at the convent, I found love and solace”.
This poem was first written for an online contest on the theme #CityILove, as a tribute to the town which has greatly influenced and healed me with its salubrious surroundings.
The poem found a place in the Top10 entries of the contest conducted by WritersMelon.