On the first day, the setting sun, carelessly tossed a handful of vermilion onto the under-carriage of a truant cloud. The cumulo-nimbus obligingly wedded the first snowbound peak it bumped into in a glorious ritual of "sindoor daan". Amorphous snow, softened by the piety of a sincere, albeit recalcitrant lover, fell in hushed wonder on the demur mountaintops.
After that there was no more beauty.
The one word which should have come to his mind, and which his sister-in-law, with characteristic alacrity professed so effortlessly was "stark". Why was it so obvious to her what he had so obviously missed? Looking at the brooding and failing heights, the bare contours and the harsh escarpments, why had the ugliness failed to appeal to him as it always had? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wizard with words? The person who could emote easily and express with the precision of a lapidary? Hadn’t he, when younger , written about these mountains and eulogized Knowledge saying:
"Once high upon the sullen rocks,
We chanced upon a paradox,
When all that was trivial turned profound,
And all the great was Rainbow Dust!"
And it struck him only when she said," It’s so stark and beautiful isn’t it?"
" Nothing grows for the next 100 sq kms", his brother added for good measure, "Just lichen and brush".
That was the moment when it all fell in place.
They would probably applaud it in years to come as a fine effort at bonding. Even the weak joke, about it being so tiring that they needed to go home and rest after the vacation, was jarring by the time they boarded the outbound flight. It would not have been possible except in a family of two "faujis" (one retired the other serving), a bully of a husband and three wives shaking their heads indulgently.
However the trip helped him realize what had gone wrong with his life. The transmogrifying from the messiah of love to the self-doubting ogre was now complete. Perhaps this was what had been wrong all this while and he had not noticed it till then.
He had lost the ability to relate to the inanimate.
Back home, the 7-year old wrote: Would I." If I throw money to the sky would I get the sun, clouds, rains and a rainbow? Or I would get a moon? If I keep little money in a pit would I? Get a plant? And if I planted lots of money would I get a tree?There are some things which cost money... however my dad says, the moon belongs to no one…. the best things in life are free! I believe him."
It was then that he decided to trade in his dungarees for formal raiments, go on a long sabbatical and so the grease monkey became an academician.
Now only if these youngsters would stop gaping and RESPOND !