western ghats

great gushing
torrents of water
pour over the hillside
thundering, roaring

in other places
rippling streams
run crystal clear
through muddy green

fresh smell of eucalyptus
blue beds of kurinji
dark-leaved coffee
neatly pruned tea

dense forests
echo with the sounds
of crickets, frogs
shhh! listen

wild eyes
glow at night
creatures, large and small
roam their territory

the morning light
exposes some stories
tiger scat,
deer hair and bone

but the forest
constantly nourishes
new life - purple frogs
flower buds

birds, snails
a butterfly here
and other beings
well-protected from human eye

every rain replenishes
this moss underfoot
thick canopy
nurtures life overhead

you, carefully tucking away
your treasures
like a lady would
money in her saree-blouse

you, the mother
giving, yet
guarding in your embrace,
breathing, awake.