The cry of the Himalayas

Come; let me tell you a tale;

But be warned beforehand; that it is not hearty or gale,

For even though I am the youngest of my kind;

I am much older than you can mind,


This tale is of my mother and her offspring;

And the destruction that a tantrum can bring,

For yes that is what this is;

The tantrum of an imbecile child in an attempt to tame that powerful mother of his,


This child, who was a symbol of love and care;

A child whose protection for us was to be a prayer,

A youngest who was our mother’s heir;

A youngest we were to follow without restraint or care,


However, this imprudent child forgot what he was taught;

Forgot what he should never have aught,

 And in his prideful endeavour;

Went about taming his creator,


He lashed out with his technology and machine;

Polluting everything that was once clean and pristine,

His every attack leaving us bloody and scarred;

Our beautiful mother, now marred and charred,


Now, we wounded children, are rising to fight back;

To respond to each scar and hack,

We curse you; you impudent child;

To learn how dangerous is the ‘wild’ when riled,


We curse you to see your offsprings suffer and hurt;

As we return you to dirt,

As you sow; so shall you reap,

As did we, so shall you weep;

So, remember this story when you see;

The destruction Mother Nature can bring to be.

-by Akshita Misra


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