The spirit of mountains have enthralled us for millenia. A small local hill in a unkown town becomes its landmark casting its shadow from east and west to determine the life style of that town. People respect it, fear it and often attribute a spirit to it. Whether Fujiyama, Kilimanjaro, Vesuvius, Alps or the Himalayas they all inspire a sense of awe and  arouse mystical wonder. The Himalayas are reckoned as the seat of the gods and mystics and Yogis meditate there in its caves, while the holy river Ganges flows from its bosom to water the vast expanses of North India. A land with mountains is dominated by their presence which shapes the lives of the inhabitants, their philosophy, culture, and way of life. Once on a visit to the Himalayas I was so overwhelmed by their magnificence, stately beauty and awesome presence that I conceived a poem as a tribute to their majesty and ethereal splendour which I would like to share with you:


                        O F     M O U N T A I N S


 Mountains sit and watch forever

In ranges, after all they are sentient beings;

Some lurch forward, others are contained

And drop one great rock after an eternity

In the only movement they know.

Mountains in motion are so slow

Like petals of flowers unfolding,

Plant and mineral in invisible motion

To our own fast forward mode,

More  imperceptible  even than their shadows

Shifting with the sun, forms and shapes

Watching our movements

Below their pensive profiles,

Holding us in stony thoughts millenia old;

But they grow like tallest Everest, hold

Crystals in their breasts and reefs of gold

And let precious waters in rivulets flow,

Or then their innards blow sky-high

As volcanos

In their only flowering,

Growing with the lava flow another shoulder,

Thigh or infant boulder,

Spreading against the sky expressions of ash

with rumbling roars,

Shaking the earth with their millennial spring

Before resuming their timeless chores

Of rocky meditations swathed in snow.