Bharat Rattan Nagpal.

The Green Valley
Descending
into dark, heaps of darkness
negotiating the yellow terrain
Our carriage bends, turning to be erect,
We blink
Our eyelids are watery streams
until the shafts of light
pierce.

The breath taking turns
take us to the valley.
The carpet of green
lying at the middle
between the steeps and the slopes.

The middle aged man
overwhelmed, fixed his gaze
upon the glassbox
to pursue his mathematics
metamorphose the environment
into calculations
All that turned opaque.

We, in pauses
exchanged glances, whispered syllables
when the outlines
of the distant abode of Lord Shiva
gained in transparency.

The middle aged man astounded
had snake like creeps
He found himself entrapped, insupportable
between the glorious sunshine above
and the countless, serpentine roots
rocks, atmas below.

Beatific Vision

Lord, draft me in the mountain of love
wherein I keep ascending,
Slender is the present web
when I stand enclosed, diminished

Lead me to the untrodden paths,
They are endless,
Like a dream child,
I will scrub my slate,
script new strokes
everready, everfresh
everwilling for ventures,

When the clouds darken
stagnant pools that astound
I will not be smothered
The river that flows on me
will continue its spell
in its stillness, fury, abandon
You are the mystic glacier
from where it emanates

I will wear new dress,
summon my vitals
play Your play,
celebrate, swoon,
in the unsung song of Your drumbeats

Under Your decree,
The mighty spirit of life
that overflows,
will submerge in me,
in thunder, lightning,
showers

The Inheritor
Bumping through darkness,
towards the twilight,
The misty dawn breaks,
The aircraft landed
on remote tract

The Tibetan greeted us
A simpleton, elbowing his hand
through the phiran
His swaying head, protruding giggles
tobacco stained teeth
displayed his amicable gusto

A man of steel,
His fingers rotated variously
in directions : North, South, East, West
A monastery – mosque and the temple,
confluence of cultures,
and a microcosm
mingling of costumes, looks, nuances

I was ceasing to blur, disbelieve
Seated on the pavement,
I paused –
It was clear daylight,
The troupe of dancers dashed
bugles blew, anklets chimed, bangles clanked
Everything, everywhere was hilarious
There was communion of elements,
music of oneness.

Beauty and love, I visualized
lie in the child nestled in her mother’s arms
in an old man in unkempt dress
leaning upon his stick,
The community of family waving with delight

Then I went close to River Indus,
drank the bluish water from another source
Ecstasy and Freedom, I registered
have no past, present, future.

Prof. B.R.Nagpal is a retired associate professor of English from Ramanujanprof College, University of Delhi. Published two volumes of verse,Published poems in journals like “The Poetry Society of India,” “The Hindustan Times,” “Induswomanwriting.com,” and “Indian and Foreign Review.”Published three critical works on Modern British Fiction and several critical articles in national and international journals.