Little Lhasa

Dharamsala: From where I stay at the base level of the Upper Dhasa hill off below Jogiwara Road like at the bottom of a pit but elevated from the gorge with a gurgling stream flowing along the narrow bed to Lower Dhasa (the base plains abutted to the foothills of the Himalayas), from the veranda with iron-railing I find the silhouettes of the hills rising before me over there rather threatening. The almost full moon tonight first peeps from behind them like stealing a peek at us. Later I find it like debauching amid the soft cotton like clouds that help it to have a jagged brimmed halo with light tawny tint—it seems to have attained its full enlightenment, glorious so. But a little later I find it against the clear background with those sparse stars but without its lovely halo now. The lower hilltops with sparse coniferous trees look like bald heads with spiky hair in the middle and the upper hilltops shrouded in grey hazes like the snow clad peaks are in a backstage rehearsal to show their grandeur later on. These are the beauty of Dhasa I find tonight rather accidentally.