THE LIGHTS.
A chilly winter night.
Time- Somewhere around 11.00 pm.
Location- Somewhere on Mall road.
Your 'dinner and walk' programme has gone late. You are
walking along the Mall road (which is quiescent by then) with friends, busy
chitchatting. Somehow you manage to get the attention out of the leisurely
winter walk to look down to the scene visible down the valley. And suddenly you
shriek out- Aw mannnn!!!! Whatta scene!!
You can see the entire expanse of Dehradun
down the hills. Its glittering! One is ought to be awestruck looking at such
pageantry of golden yellow and white lights. It feels like the entire galaxy of
the sky is being reflected in a vast ocean. The chitchat suddenly turns into a
eulogy of the spectacle…
Then
you happen to look at the hills above. The sight of Mussoorie is equally
astonishing. The lights here are primarily white. The scene looks as if the
hills are adorned with a glittering diamond necklace, wherein every diamond
bead is shimmering with maximal intensity. And the stray, isolated lights in
the neighbourhood give a feel of some diamonds which have been unchained from
the necklace. Just look at the valley! Its still and calm as a meditating sage…
And
then, your mind starts diverting towards the bookish stuff of human
encroachment on nature. The scene you are enjoying now turns into a crisis in
making. The horrors of over-possibilism seem real now. The unending festival of
lights down the valley turns into an imagery of urban sprawl. The glowing hills
turn devilish. You start to foresee possible hazards of this human bravado.
From an aesthetic site-seeing chap, you turn into an environmentalist, worried
about the future of humanity.
Meanwhile
you reach your destination. Your mind is now engrossed into the “what next”
conundrum. The thoughts about human encroachment, future of humanity are now
being gradually subsided. You start focusing on new challenges presented by the
moment now. Life moves on. The environmentalist goes into deep hiding now. And
all the bookish stuffs returns to the books now, with a fragile hope of
entering somebody’s mind again…
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