the white mountain was blue

Back in Coimbatore after a month. Was delighted in the morning, but the evening finds me melancholic. I welcome the feeling for its depth and flavour. It suits the night sky over these sombre mountains.  I am discovering (in that stupid way humans have of discovering eternal truths as if they alone have stumbled upon them by some unearthly chance) that if one lives closely tuned to the sun one feels like the sun, sprung in the morning, full-blown in the day, meditative at dusk, restful at night, and mystic before dawn.

Last evening I was on the train, then too I found the same catch in the region below my heart, so half of the below was started then -

Kya le jata hai suraj apne saath,

Jab woh doobne lagta hai har shaam?

Abhaas hota hai ke bheetar kuch asth huaa hai

Kheechta hai kuch andar-andar

Tez aach pe chadi saanse, madhaam si hoke simatne lageen ho jaise

Ek  nishabd dhaara ban ke bah rahi ho jaise

Aur dheemi saason ke is sheetal dhaara mein umadteen hain woh saare prashn phir se

Jinke nirantar prashn-chinh se thak ke soya hun umr bhar, har raat, har raat.

Ke phir suraj uge aur phir taab se apni bhasm kar de un sawaalon ko,

Saansein phir se raftaar pakde, ke unke beech, kisi prachn-chinh kisi sawaal ka antar na ho

Jeevan ki gati aisi ho ke woh swayam uttar sa lage,

Aur lagne lagti bhi hai har roz har roz

Aur phir sooraj asth hota hain,

Aur phir har saans ke baad... ek yugantar