The twisted roads and the high cliffs,
The blue sky kisses the mountains stiff.
From a distant afar the green or the blue
(I do not know the colour to describe that hue)
The colour of the emerald embedded hunchback
That dawns with blue, reigns in green till swallowed by the power of black.
Or could it be the angels mirth
To carve Heaven in the womb of the Mother Earth?
The beauty of the hills to see
Is such another ecstasy!
The hypnosis of the fair to know
The allurement starting from the sky and ending on tea gardens below.
The joy of nature plays in the eye
When trees begin to ‘illusionise’ in contrast to the sky.
When over the crown shines the golden fire
From Heaven looks like topaz shining above sapphire.
When Eos arise to mark another day,
One can hardly know the difference in May.
Four different seasons in the course of calendar
To this beautiful hills do the weather surrender,
Could it be summer without a heat
Or a winter with it?
Could it be the rainfall accompanying the spring?
Oh! The mysteries of a beautiful Darjeeling.
When the chaos of Heaven’s pour down transparent blood
From within the windows do people hear the heavenly sod.
Who knew the battles of the invisibles could be cheated
When God himself uses the lightning against the undefeated.
The heavenly blood pours down
In the closest realm of the crown.
The skiey battlefield gets cleared
And mortals and subjects arise no more feared.
With the mortal eye look at the queen!
Shining in glory as though it was her victorious win!!!
She stands tall and proud
The mountains behind are her enemies shroud.
She stands distinct from the rest
As she is the blue-blood of magnificent Everest !
When the Golden object reaches the west
Had it’s authority nearly under arrest
The tired fire is the brightest thing
To see in the surreal evening.
The clouds are golden and so is Heaven
The evening blessed by the beauty of color seven.
The crimson light from the golden overflows
And to the plains,the hills, the mountain’s bestows
Arm in arm do they unite
To bid goodbye and welcome the night.
To break the friendship of Heaven and Earth who dares?
For they preach love and beauty are greatest when shared.
The tiny stars appear
In the sky and hills as though a reflection in the mirror
The darkness cannot consume Darjeeling
For in this town the stars share it’s siblings.
Tokyo,New York or London
Could ever witness this phenomenon.
This small town of love and affection
Couldn’t be defined less than Heaven’s reflection.
If you ask me how am I sure of this?
An atmosphere likely of Angel’s kiss?
I would not be able to tell so well
As to who else would believe in a fairytale?
When God said ‘’let there be light!’’
It turned out to be the morning, evening and the night.
All the shades between black and white
Have found its glory in my curvy heights.
What magic used in ‘’thunder, lightning or the rain’’
Or what song inspired Keats to write a Nightingale?
The best of what is known is unknown
Everything is greater than what it’s shown.
‘’….. unheard melodies are sweeter’’
And adding colours, music and hues to the picture,what we imagine is,but, half a rapture.
Come by a region where nature sings
Of people,place,tress and buildings.
The chiming clock and the bells fine ringing
You feel the place and it is Darjeeling.
The icy wind could caress your senses
And make your experience more intense.
Like the first page of the first book you ever read
Highly likely a kingdom where a Princess and a Prince would wed.
Come by a kingdom that you should see
And be amazed to find it in a democracy.
Come by to figure the warmth of the cold
And hear the stories never told.
It could be the angel’s mirth
Creating Darjeeling in the womb of the Mother Earth.
The uncorrupted serenity
Could be easily mistaken for eternity
But it is no Heaven
For Heaven is impossible to describe with a pen..
What could it be then?
The wisest would try to solve
The mysteries of love and why the Earth revolves.
As for a native like me
It is more than a realm producing tea and more than what you see.
It is not about what drives on wheels
But more about what this place makes me feel,
It is not about what to solve
But more about falling in love,
It is not about a religion or a song
But knowing where I belong.
It is all about what is real
And my Queen stands imperial,
With prisoners in forest chains
And divine blood running through her vein.
With the brightest aura and the strangest architect
She blissfully nurtures all her subjects.
I wouldn’t trade my ‘this-moment’s-feeling’
So heavenly and blissful given by Darjeeling.
She is the queen and I am the daughter
Her name and my name is pretty much not ‘’writ on water’’
–
Regina gurung
Power, Poem, Prose 