Song of the Himalayas


Stretching far beyond the distant horizons

is a mountain where trod the gods on their

way to heaven, where mankind prayed for

redemption, for a broader vision, for union


with universal, infinite energies. The peaks

tower snow white — stretch out an awning.

Long ago, these were not there. The ranges

birthed as two ancient land masses embraced.


Their child, these hills, these peaks, the grand

Himalayas, the Everest — a love-child, an

accident of nature? And yet, they have stood

longer than you or me, much longer in history.


They stretch towards the clouds, aged 50 million

and still growing: humans of less than 200,000 years

draw lines, boundaries on these hills. Borders

of development, economics, politics, intolerance —


what do these mountains think? Does how we think

impact the moves of these tectonic plates? Humans

see their lives as unique, devise systems that exclude.

What would the mountains say and the land?


Lalon, with love, sings of the oneness. He

hums, “I am a human” as are we. Across borders

of Kabul, of Kandhar, Ballys, Apaches, Moanas

and more, rings an echo: “I am a human” —


The Universe reverberates with a voice that fills

with the freedom of winds, the vastness of skies,

the tallness of mountains, the whisper of leaves —-

— “We are all human and One.”

 Mitali Chakravarty writes for peace and harmony and in that spirit brings out the Borderless Journal.


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