The downhill swoop

As the wide green fields pass along,

French Countryside. Pic credits: Self

I smile with wonder over where I belong,
Across three continents in a few weeks,
Here I am ready with a few tweaks...

A minute of silence, a gush of wind,
Roadside sunflowers along the bend.
Endless vineyards holding hands,
As if practicing group errands.

Castles sit peacefully caressed by nature,
With sculpted patterns of many a feature,
Stories of royalty very long gone,
Remain as an impression never forgone....

Colorful cafes, fancy bridges,
Croissants, baguette, souffle' and fudges...
Streets with music, walls with art,

The Group. Pic credits: Mike Fausone

Like wine and cheese, they are never apart.

Surprises in pockets of a small little town,
Churches and houses, all golden brown.
Dance, wine, food and geese et al.
A friendly tour-guide to top it all...

Alongside a few cheerful comrades,
As the golden sunshine slowly fades,
Chugging uphill, singing a song,
Pedals pushed harder, we go very long.

As I relish the downhill swoop,
I look at our chirpy little troop,
We make our way through it all,
We make it through each day without a fall.

Of people and culture we often hear,
But, friendships through travel are very much dear.
Miles from home and miles to clear,
A downhill swoop to drive away fear...

The bird, the breeze and me. Part 1

Hey! How have you been?
Have you been happy? Have you been cheerful? Asks the cool breeze...
Nope, not really... I have been busy! I said.
Buhsy??Doeshn't being buhsy makeh you happhy? Asks the bird with a wild forest accent.
He is busy being unhappy, declares the breeze with a chuckle.

You talk of cheer as if it is easy to be so. You don't know the kind of people I know, I taunt.
Pheople? I only knoh of cheeherphul birds.Says the bird with some doubt.
Why know them at all? Know only those who make cheer grow. Those who sow seeds of joy and deeds of kindness.
Thus wisely advises the breeze to me, while I plug my ears with bird feathers and pull on my wind sheeter.
Ignorant and angry I walk on with no destination in mind...

Meghalaya - the abode of clouds

This poetry is based on a trip to the beautiful Meghalaya - A north-eastern Indian state, rich in natural beauty and culture! Explore my experience through the verses below in two interesting patterns: 

• You can try reading the first two lines of each stanza : For a rhyming melody. (Humm in any tone you like btw ;))
• Read the whole including the third line for some extra philosophical dose! (Coz there is always something to read between the lines!)

MEgh-aLaYa ( the abode of clouds)

The golden Mawphlang morning! (pic credits : liFe in 'mm')

A little of sunshine, a little of the valley,

Look below the bridges to find gurgling streams, these are the ones which make up dreams.

And, look afar to spot the lone backpacker, lost and found, in his own game.

A little of adventure, a little bit of thrill,

Look, as you wade through the deep dark cave, the rocks must have let someone pave.

And, look at the shimmering work of the Supreme artist, light can do only so much justice.

A little of humanity, a little play-time with kids,

Look at the innocent laughter and the smiles so warm, take a moment to soak in all the charm.

And, look at the thinning waterfall, while you remain overflowing with joy!

A little of speed, a little of the gently winding roads,

Look at the ups and downs of life and hills, both with grand golden frills.

And, look at the short speeding journey of life, make sure you craft it rather well.

A little of introspection, a little of ‘who am I’ moments,

Look at what matters and what doesn’t, look at your only chance to craft the present.

And, look at the surprising contrast of the talking machine and the silent man!

A little of clear blue waters, a little of strong root bridges,

Look at how nature evolves, struggles and sustains, finally only the strong remains.

And, look, beyond just the beauty of things, at the strong core and the soft heart!

A little of warm bright sunrises, a little of cold starry nights,

Look at the ripples on the lake, count the moments you wish to take.

And, look at the bounty of nature - quite generous, caring and strict, all like a mother!

A little of valleys and golden hues, a little of narrow never-ending roads,

Look at how nature dresses up every season, from her green gown to a golden frock without a reason!

And, look, how we humans are just decors clinging to the sides of the colossal nature!

A little of sharing, a little of caring,

Look at all the goodness around, let the best of human nature abound,

And, look at your new-found friends, while they laugh, each with a unique ship to sail!

A little of cold and of warmth, a little of peace and of longing,

A little of everything in between, and yet a rare sense of belonging.

Look, there in the abode of clouds, at that steep turn, lies a part of you which might never return,

Look, not at the loneliness of the scenic grave, for that is where we are heading with nothing to save,

Instead, look somewhere at those scenic cottages and then inside yourself, you might discover a story worth pages...

The Free Spirit....

The humming engine and the beating heart,
All in sync with nothing to part,
The winding roads and the valleys wide,
They pass along like the veil of a bride,
The gushing cold air, the frozen hands,
The short-pit stops and the little errands...
The waving kids and the surprised glances,
They add to the thrill of biking romances,
The peace of a journey and the crease of a heart,
Both need caressing to keep them apart,
The mighty man and the animal inside both remain tamed,
The revving machine does the magic, often never named,
The rights and the lefts, the dives and the drifts,
Feel them all like a bird in the sky....
Free from traditions and bondage of any kind,
Free from niceties, obligations and games of the mind,
Free from the idea of right and wrong,
Free of borders and free of mind,
Feel the free spirit like a bird in the sky....
Feel this freedom - a biker's high!