A trip to Amarnath

amarnath1

 

Twenty souls huddled together

In a small tent. Tired legs

Refuse to sleep.

My partner has taken to his flight of dreams

With a noisy engine,

Waking up every one but himself –

A journey of awakening.

 

In the morning

Blood streams rebel.

They need all the pushing, pulling and cajoling

And the sun rays.

While the stoic lake Seshnag gathers remnants

Of tents and humans.

 

This year we were a little short of

Enlightenment.

Lord Seshnag was too sleepy to oblige us

With his jewel of thousand suns.

But it happened every year –

They had heard it from others.

 

Legs surrender to the inertia of the road

Narrow, dusty up and down

With scattered snow,

And horse hoofs.

The young and the old

And the gun totting army men

All join the chorus

Har Har Mahadev

 

The smell from the langars

Rise above hills to carry the prayers

And the menu of the morning moksha.

Har Har Mahadev,

Come and take your seat.

The dilemma of life –

Sweet sour chilly or pungent.

 

In the cave the linga has vanished to a goal post.

The form has become formless.

Still the priest insists we bow

And shows us last year’s photo.

But I prefer the void.

 

I thought the journey would end here.

But we retrace our path by the Panjatarani

After just a glimpse of the void

To the tenth ox.

amarnath2

4 thoughts on “A trip to Amarnath

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