The Mountain Chitrkoot

The Mountain Chitrakoot (Mentioned in Ramayana)

A Pilgrim’s destination

The path of the river Mandakini opens before my eye.

These dense green forests of ancient birth

Are spreading over the banks their cool green shades

And the wordless, soundless regions on her banks are spreading a world of sounds all their own.

The silent, deserted woods resonate to the mellifluous song of the river’s flow.

Come dawn, and the river vibrates in the sweetness of the proximity

Of her devotees; the way they touch her, sends tremors of love and gratitude to her waves

And then all the bells in all the temples on her banks start ringing all at once.

The sweetness echoes everywhere.

Mid-day is the time for the bards of Lord.

When the bards sing the saga of Rama, the hearts of the devotees are one with the bard.

It’s a festival of forgetfulness,

A celebration of the loss of the ego,

A moment that the mountain gathers

And the river carries in her heart.

This is the ancient ground where Lord Rama walked once.

This is the ground made holy by the presence of God.

The imprints of his feet are still there,

Carved immortal,

On the marble-white surface of the rocks.

 Standing at the spot where he stood once, I am filled with wonder that I am alive and standing here.

Deep and mysterious is the beauty of this mountain.

Its dormant fantasy comes alive and echoes in the solitary greenwood for those who listen.

If caught in its magic circle, it will not let you go.

There is an overwhelming call that will pull you back to it again and ever again.