She touched the getting-ready-to-sleep valley
Her shades were spreading around–majestic silver.
We four friends were high on alcohol; sitting on the roof
Hotel name I cannot recollect; the talk I cannot recollect.
The only thing I remember the evening.
It had rain few hours ago; the wind wet chilled
The snow peaks of mighty Himalaya was hazy though prominent
The mountain city that was looking like Diwali lamps lightened in chain
Then was not glorious but glamorous with lights of few, or might be lot, houses,–
Though less than what it was few hours ago.
The adrift mountain breeze playing piano
Mountain peaks, I said of minute ago, as its key.
The pencils of moon light falling through cloud on pressed key–the peaks.
Spring was it, but, monsoon by nature making the fog cold.
I do not remember the name of the city–it may be Mandi or Dalhousie
I do not remember whether I had thought of few lines to write later
I do, though, remember the recollection of the pretty face I was in love.
Life has changes a lot; all we’re busy now
Twice or thrice a year we meet over drinks or on some occasions;
The pretty face now I cannot recollect; she has got married two years ago–
The evening, that, eight years ago and lots from that tour–
Knock often giving an embrace of solace, providing glimpses of life–
Hateful, disturbing that time; bliss, warmth now.