Mesmerizing Malnad

I stand beneath a canopy of silver rain, each drop a soft kiss on the emerald world, and I feel your pulse in every trembling leaf, an intimate dance of water and living breath.

Mist coils around hidden valleys like whispered secrets, and the hills unfold before me, ancient pages inscribed with the poetry of moss and fern. Here, the sky presses closer, generous and tender, as though longing to share our every heartbeat.

The aroma of coffee drifts through the damp air, rich as memory, grounding me in this wild hymn. I press my hand to bark, rough and warm, and promise to carry this green devotion in the hollow of my palm, always.

Streams laugh over stones, urgent with joy, their music a testament to renewal, as I learn that each moment of surrender plants a seed of hope in restless bones.

Birdsong threads through the downpour, bright as longing, as if each note repeats: “You belong here. You are home.”

And so I linger, bound to this land’s soft roar, my soul entwined in monsoon’s gentle reckoning, pledging eternal love to every blade of grass, to every mist-laced crest that cradles my heart.