The Silent King of Ladakh


Greeted every now, and then,

By baby clouds,

Humbly bowing down in respect,

Aware of being under constant surveillance,

Though, then at rest,

They knew Zeus, the God of Rain,

Could see everything all the time,

Especially, their behavior towards seniors in the sky,

They knew the old, wise and the towering Himalayas,

Was the last one that they could miss…

Exhibiting age gracefully,

Proud of its mature cracks, wrinkles,

And, patches crystal white,

They knew he was someone,

Who’s been there since ages,

Immortal, patient,

He was the one who inspired,

It was from him, they knew,

They had a lot to learn…

Standing guard for millions and billions of years,

Protruding a tough face,

A hard chest,

Swollen with pride

Stiffening a harder back,

With hands resting firmly on its waist,

It has been guarding the land,

From, both the sides,

The only expression that it leaks,

Is a faint sarcastic smile,

As if confirming the trees, the bushes,

The monasteries and the creatures,

Always acknowledged the presence of their silent King,

That they knew who’s the ultimate boss in there,

Their savior,

Relentlessly shielding them from peril,

Standing as a fort,

Demonstrating universal strength, supreme power,

Single-handedly blocking,

Those viscous Siberian winds…






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