The Blues of Memory

There is a school of thought that the Nilgiris is the Sanskrit word for Blue mountains and some are of the opinion that its is because of Neelakurunji flowers which decorates the expanse of mountains every 12 years rendering them Blue.

Nevertheless,

The nearest hills were dark,
their edges certain,
their trees visible against the sky.

Farther away,
certainty began to dissolve.

And farther still,
the mountains became mist,
memory,
almost nothing—

yet somehow
they were the most beautiful.

Perhaps that is what the years do to us.

What was once sharp
slowly softens.

The faces we loved,
the roads we travelled,
the dreams we held so tightly—
all recede into the distance
until we can no longer touch them.

But distance does not make them meaningless.

Probably,
it is the distance that gives them beauty…..

Shot in Coorg, August 26 © Dr.Bishan Monnappa

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