photo :mkMist
The misty crest of Munnar melting apart
in to clouds, sky and ocean
It becomes whiter and whiter resembling
the ever-depressing sense of separation
and gets toned down in showers
In the township, the mist
is both spiritual relief
and refreshing for the tourists
Among the tall eucalyptus soldiers
who are yet to wake up from dreams,
the clusters of mist become puzzles
The epic expanse of the mist
escorts the well disciplined
regiment of tea plants parading on the slopes
The eucalyptus trees are like sentries
in the sacred woods of eternal love
The echo-point in the woods
keep on reverberating the words,
“I love you”
The wings of swans vanish
bidding adios
The nuptials of affections
dig tunnels into the past
where carcasses
of forbidden love lie scattered
The packets of “tata tea”,
the invisible embraces of Kannan Devan hills
stretching out from the green
slopes of Munnar
The abstractness of memories
vomited by pain and
the glistening wilds which
wipe away the fearsome grief
Now there is only mist,
the language, the ritual,
the religion and the god
