lush hanging over
Gardens of Nilgiri,
At tea time.
Tribal lands, not far.
Frosty aromas, green cardomum in jars,
from the coast to the waist,
brings calm and fortitude to the taste.
No Swami or smog clouds here.
No shouting vendor or mass crowd stare.
The Blue Mountains sustain,
Rolling bushes of perfumed leaves,
Cushioned in the Monsoon Rain,
Occasionally visited by thieves.
- Priyanka Saraswati