There was a general vagueness to our camera
A fog of the rain, a fuzzy smoke in the valleys
Where woman and mountain merged in each other.
We  had tea on the slopes, where women hung
At the sky’s edge , about two leaves and a bud
A basket where they hurled their green pickings.
Our tea was spread in plastic bag,in green light
Not a tea in cup that warmed stomachs in smoke.

( A visit to the tea gardens of Darjeeling)

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About nisheedhi

Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests
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