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I made a discovery
The other day:
Shangri La
Was within me.
I spent a lifetime,
Searching for it,
Out in the West.
I crossed the Indian Ocean,
Leaving behind an ancient country,
Where kings did as they pleased.
The earliest dynasties in Catmandu Valley
Were the Gopalas, Mahisapolas and Kirats,
Who were succeeded
By Lichhavis and the Thakuri Mallas.
One day a dreaded king from Gorkha
Ravaged the fair vale of Catmandu,
When its people were celebrating
The Feast of Indra,
The God of the Firmament,
The personified atmosphere,
Bringing Nepal under his rule.
King Gyanendra the eleventh Shah king,
Was ousted by his own folk,
With the help of the growing Maoists.
I left my country to land
In an old Allemanic town,
That had been the subject
Of a dispute between
Austria and France.
A town under the Hapsburg,
Then Napoleon’s soldiers,
To end under Baden-Württemberg.
A twisting town with a stream,
Flowing along its cobbled alleys,
And a Gothic cathedral
Under the Black Forest.
In the holidays I went
To many different cities,
Saw museums and pompous palaces.
One such palace was the Schloss Neuschwanstein,
Built by the Bavarian Ludwig II.
A castle with breathtaking beauty,
A dream in marmor,
Akin to the dreams
Of a young man from the Himalayas.
Another dream came true,
When I entered the Palace of Glass in Versailles.
I learned about life,
Comparing the East and the West,
Only to realise
That the rituals and cycles of life,
Were the same,
Everywhere I went:
Humans nagged by anxieties,
Fear and angst,
Complexes, phobias,
Neurosis.
Fear of losing jobs,
Husbands and spouses.
Houses built on mortgages,
With exorbitant interests,
Patchwork families galore.
Shangri-la,
You are in me,
I am in you,
In the nature of our spirits,
Wearing a mantle of light,
A reassuring sunlight,
That brings hope and compassion.
Om shanti. Shanti.
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