A Paradise In Paradise Poem by Namita Rani Panda

I
If a Paradise really exists, it is this
With its impeccable natural beauty:
Snow-capped mountains with gurgling streams
That hum gleefully in silvery gleam,
Pine trees stand like tall towers,
Valleys decked with lovely flowers,
Lush green expanse of meadows
A feast for eyes, a bewitching show!

She adorns herself with a new look in every morn
In a fresh hue and aroma in every season:
Trees laden with apples wet with dew in apple season
She looks as if a teen in blush pink just out of pond
Buoyant bees and beautiful butterflies fly around
Through the shifting leaves sunlight peeps and dapples
Air is perfumed with the sweet smell of apple,
Chinar leaves turn from olive green to golden in autumn,
She turns to a queen in her regal robe
Studded with orange gemstones,
She seems a lovely lass reclining in deep satisfaction
Draped with a flowery shawl of saffron,
In winter, a fairy in spotless white
Supremely pristine and a divine delight!


II
The jewel of paradise is shrinking
Plastic water bottles and wrappers are freely floating,
The shikaras, with muggy smell, wait for tourists
Shopkeepers wait expectantly in the floating market
Beautifully embroidered dresses hang outside
Faded and covered with dust particles.
From every corner rings the same question:
"Do you feel any violence here?
Tourists are our God,
Nowadays, no profit in business,
Won't you take another?
Special discount I do offer,
Especially for you dear! "
III
Asif, the guide, on the last day
Invites the tourists to his small cottage with immense joy,
His mom immediately offered blanket to warm our weary feet
And khawa, to our tired body, a sumptuous treat,
His father recounted the reminiscences of the old golden days
And says, "Next visit, not in any hotel, here you must stay."
His sisters were still working in the carpet factory
Weaving dreams with their tender fingers
Like the intricate designs of embroidery,
Aman, his brother, a graduate with high ambition
Loves his native land as well as Nation,
Genuinely generous enough to gift us wall nuts when we depart
His mother kissed our forehead and carved a niche in our heart
Mothers are like air, water and sunshine
Impartially they scatter warmth and love, supremely benign!
That small cottage in that paradise I do earnestly yearn to revisit
And those golden hearts I do intensely cherish to meet!