Amarnath 'Ice-Linga' Poem by Rajendran Muthiah

In the very deep of the hills,
the stream of Amar Ganga rushes down
dashes on the rocks and slides over them.
When Summer gets ready to bid adieu,
the cave-dweller grows in might and size,
and when the winter peeps in
nobody could trek to see Him.
The troubadours singing hymns in plains
were breathing hard and put every step
straining every nerve and leaning on a stick.
The journeys up and down are tedious
sweating and fretting for those around fifties.
We trudged on a layer of compacted snow
and returned to find the slab missing.
People trundled down with care or else
would be rolling down to bathe in Amar Ganga.
Some four hundred steps alone we’d climb
to witness the amazing sight of Ice-Linga.
But there I felt the shortage of oxygen!
“Is the Linga, a natural marvel
or a scientific snowy mural? ”