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Mist and After
The car sputtered and started and slowly climbed up the hills,
Air nippy and smelt of pine-
Higher up, higher up
The wind poked you like sharp needles.
Did it mean we had reached?
What’s this? A narrow mall road chock-
With taxis, ricks, marutis and indicas,
Fighting furiously for right of way.
Oh no! This is not Mussorie!
Rounded the Clock Tower to reach Vernon Estate,
Tired, famished and disenchanted.
Thick mist swirled over the valley and peaks
Day broke with a smile and clear blue sky
Tip-
And drank in the vista of snow-
Badri, Kedar, Gangothri, Yamunotri
Showed themselves upon cue.
This is the real Mussorie
With the gods looking down from high.