K K Mehra


September 13 2013


This page is for the writings and musings from KK Mehra

KK wishes to make it clear that an author is free to publish material on his own page
and elsewhere if he so desires. For your information my work is published elsewhere as well


          Below is a photograph of KK and his lady, Reenu 



 The Musings are shown below

March 10 2014

Golf Sunday

The night before the thought excites
Before day-break the rush starts
Before long riding at dawn
The fresh air on the course
The twitter of birds , the call of the pea-cock greet
Small banter, a joke shared with a fellow golfer
To shake off the tension
As you line up to address the ball on the first tee
A reality check, a flexing of the knees
An arc that starts high above your head
Swings through the line of the ball
And behold ! Magic ; the little cherry sails high into the sky
Flirting with danger almost kissing the tops of 'jacaranda' trees
And lands safely on the centre of the fairway
Rolls magistically , stops to applause
From the three-some that looks on
And you are away to 18 holes of drama ,
Out-doing yourself, excelling,
Also making silly errors
But 5 hours of sport
Re-charged batteries you come away
Pleasantly tired looking forward to the next day.


February 9 2014

A Foggy Morning

Yet again , I woke up to a day enveloped in fog
Out of doors is bleak, quiet,
Not a blade of grass nor a leaf moves
Wet and damp
The grass, the trees, the distant hedge
Are still
Will movement betray them ?
Silhouettes are hazy
Just forms, deceptively distant , cold
The ambience shrouded , misty,grey
Yet beautiful in its own way
A lovely winters day.
Keep the blinds on
Keep the lights burning
Stay in bed !!
Golf beckons ?
Put that thought away
Make it a lazy winters day.

KK Mehra

Mist on the Road

A working day to-day
Waking up to dense fog
Drive a a hundred miles
The thought unnerves; wait a while
That's futile after a while
Venture out
Feel the shroud; all enveloping
Trees a blanket wear; look shrivelled
Life on the road veiled; shivers
A bus, a lorry, a car , a motor -scooter
Loom out of nowhere
Advise caution; disappear
In the forest though, the sight is clear
A bridge and there's a dense cloud over the water dear
Buried in these thoughts
And engaged in several phone calls
I realise that destination is near
The fog is lifting
My chronicle must end.
Written on the way to Birpara
Early morning

A New Day

At the crack of dawn
Traffic is light
Glaring head-lights ;speeding
Why , I wonder ? Late ? Maybe
At that hour ? Ah ! Never mind .
The grey eastern horizon brightening
A shroud pulled back gradually
A tiny sparkle
The glowing rim of the Sun surfacing
Mysterious no more
A perfect circle , crimson , orange, myriad colours
Painting the sky in various hues
The little haze on the road is now gone
A bright morning, crisp and wintry dawns
Traffic heavier signals the start of another day


My favourite perch, my favourite view
Looking far into the horizon
I day dream
The trees , the vines,the shrubs ,the flowers, in view
Stray butterflies hovering around marigolds
The bright sun-shine
An eagle swirling the sky
Do an ambience create
Of peace , quiet and solitude
And my mind flies flights of fantasy
This is bliss , I feel
the Creators creativity.

January 1

A Cold Morning

Yet again , I woke up to a day enveloped in fog
Out of doors is bleak, quiet,
Not a blade of grass nor a leaf moves
Wet and damp
The grass, the trees, the distant hedge
Are still
Will movement betray them ?
Silhouettes are hazy
Just forms, deceptively distant , cold
The ambience shrouded , misty,grey
Yet beautiful in its own way
A lovely winters day.
Keep the blinds on
Keep the lights burning
Stay in bed !!
Golf beckons ?
Put that thought away
Make it a lazy winters day.

KK Mehra

December 21 2013

The Lawn

Watered by overnight heavy rainy
The freshly cut lawn looks a deep green
The  fragrance of wet earth and cut grass pervade.

The cut exposes the land as never before
Small mounds created to beautify show up
As do minor depressions that magnify
Sloping down to the 'gazebo' at the end
The land merges with the tennis court.

A clump of golden bamboos at the far end
A bush of Francesca; a carving out of Duranta
The many ugly looking  mosanda ; heavy with rain
The young mahagony sapling, the mangoes , àAathe 'litchies'
The pine, the pepper vine
All seem to stand out
Only because the lawn wears a new coat.

K K Mehra


Talking about myself
Standing on the edge of a plateau
Looking down on the plain
Protected by a neat hedge 
I am a patch of green sloping gently away from the portico
Freshly cut I come into my own
Each little ridge every small slope pronounced
The Gazebo shows up as new
The boundaries of the flower beds get defined
The leaves in the rain have put on a gloss anyway
And so have I
String together these gems I do
And present a bouquet
To friends who care to see.

The Lawn at Moonee.


December 15 2013

A beautiful day in November

When the sky, the clouds, the breeze, the trees
Unite to paint a picture
Peaceful , lazy , wondrous ,
So complete!!!

Distant yellow flowers  bloom on Cassia trees
Golden bamboo spikes sway
in a trance
The spikes on the only pine, motion-less, quiet
Under a bright Sun that somehow has lost its sting
Spell solitude and I wonder if this is make-believe !!!

As day withers away
The late afternoon Sun crimson
Spreads a fire-glow across the sky
Twitter of birds returning home
Announces the end of a wondrous day
Leaves me mesmerised
Was it a dream ?
A beautiful day in November.

December 15 2013

O Teesta

The name enchants; 
I wonder 
What mystical lands you travel through 

From the Mountain to the great plain 
Bringing the nectar of life 
O Teesta you are pretty ! 

Seen from the Bridge at Jalpaiguri 
When in the monsoon you rage down the plain 
I have often wondered how the fury starts 
For at the Coronation Bridge you are wild ; Creating waves 
And when the flood is gone 
You are an emerald green with streaks of silver; ocean bound 
O Teesta you are pretty ! 
And up along the valley gorge 
Through vivacious curves, sweeping bends 
along stretches of silver sand 
Through forests that kiss the sky 
And homesteads where life's business goes on 
O Teesta you are pretty ! 
Up, up, and up the vale 
In pursuit of your mystique 
Through countless bends of road 
Your mysterious disappearances 
a new secret, a new joy revealed at every bend 
O Teesta you are pretty ! 
Cascading water-falls ,Dense forests on either bank 
Till deep in the mountain  
A tiny gurgle  
Pristine, perfect !  
Is this where life began, I wonder  
O Teesta you are pretty ! 

October 27 2013

Peace at Dusk

As dusk approaches
Sitting at my favourite spot
I Stare at the Northern Horizon
Monsoon Clouds Rush across ; a westerly wind assists
Paint the sky a deep grey
Like wave upon wave in the Ocean
Layer upon layer floating aimlessly
Hark!! The approaching Dusk
Gets the birds to come out and twitter
A rush of noise and then there is quiet
The birds are a nesting
for the Crickets to take over
Meanwhile the clouds
Turn dark, dense and approach
Will they a storm beget ?
With thunder and lightening
Or will they pass harmlessly ?
Are thoughts that cross my mind
The breeze is cool, sways tops
Cassia trees and bamboos alike
Touches the face softly and cools
Dusk descends
A strange quiet ipervades ;
The Lords creation is all around.
KK Mehra.



 October 26 2013

Driving in the rain

A happy heart rejoices with nature and then exults
When Riding through the Dooars 
On wet , high intensity rain lashed mornings
The blue of the hills plays hide and seek with floating clouds
As one speeds down the highway
tea on either side rolls seamlessly into the distance
merges into large virgin forests
And for good measure are thrown in paddy fields
Like windows that let you gaze deep into the land.
Aha! These mornings blessed
The Creators ways to let you know
That even mundane everyday pursuits
Turn magical if He wills it so.
Thank you.


October 14 2013


The river I knew is perhaps forever lost
The pristine gurgle that turned mammoth
And raged down the mountain furiously
Stands chained ; the free run gone forever
Three Hydel power houses astride
Form lakes long and narrow
The river one loved watching so
Changed forever
Bending to mans' desire for progress.
No longer the pretty green rapid one knew
Instead huge pools of greenish water, stagnant
With all kinds of debris afloat
Where once stood banks of silver sand on either side
And yet as one rides it's bank
The old familiarity returns
Draws you in and embraces the mind
Glad that you are back
At least the valley shines.


Winged Guest

Yesterday once more
We had a visit from winged guests
The great Indian horn-bill
'What a big bird is that !!'
Looking up, Just foliage of the 'babul' tree is what one saw;
peering deeper
A shy creature yellow beak curved
A white head held high,
black plumage,fanned tail
Looking proudly towards the Eastern sky
Peerless in its splendour
Magnificent to the eye.
From nowhere two companions emerged
A mate , a nestling , I wondered
The excitement & commotion of these arrivals
My efforts to record them
Fly away for this is Man , The Predator !!
A picture I managed to take
Such elegance for my memory
And maybe even for posterity.


October 6 2013


To watch the Sun rise over the horizon; crimson
Glorious !!
To hear birds fly out of the thicket; chirping
In unison !!
To greet flowers of Francesca; fragrance heady
yesterday was today and tomorrow !!
To walk barefoot on the grass laden with dew; wet
And you come alive !!
To sip a cuppa;perfect
Bright Golden Tea !!
The five senses all in play
To make for a start to a lovely day.

October 1 2013


In yesteryears they came late ; yes
Were seen to hurry along
Literally on the double; late-comers huddled together
Some doubt in their eyes
Hoping sheer numbers
Would allow them into the 'plucking pie'
One saw to-day a young women,late
Dressed in scarlet red and white
Black plucking bag carelessly slung across one shoulder
Mobile phone in hand
Radiant in her smile and almost arrogant in gait
Ambling along to the work place
As if it was her birth right
The change that one has seen over a life-time.


A bed of Hydrangea

Come winter the hydrangea shed leaves;
Dry branches shrivelled ;
The odd bunch of flowers, browning;
Altogether an ungainly site
The long beds on either side of the drive.
Watering in the winter lead to a bud-swell
Tiny ,green and pretty;
A re-assurance of life in the spring
By degrees each day with the advent of spring
The shrubs turned green;
Spring showers and behold
A rush of pink and lilac
On either side of the drive
A great for the eyes 
A feast for the soul.


About a Babul tree.

As I sit watching the Grey Skies on the Northern Horizon
This Guy looms large
Spreading in all directions, reaching for the sky
With branches thin,leaves fine
Proud in a shiny coat it sways mildly 
Blocks the view and tells me ' I AM THE HORIZON'
Why look beyond.
The envy of others around
This big fellow as I have watched ,has grown at many times the pace
Is distinct in shape from others of its kind
And loves being called the ' SOO BABUL'
Watching its girth and spread 
It may well be the 'HORIZON' - an end in itself
For all the lessons that the scriptures bring
Are there to be read in Its majesty
O great beautiful tree.
K K Mehra


The Dooars

Bound by the Sankos in the East and the Teesta in the West;
  Nestled in the foothills of the mighty Himalayas lie the Dooars;
   Undulating, and lush green, with blue hills on the Northern horizon
  Countless streams come down the mountain and add to the mystique of the land.
  Pretty with a single highway revealing the vast secrets of the land;
  Tall trees kiss the sky amid vast strips of forest
  And Intertwined lie beautiful expanses of tea.
  Home to exotic fauna; wild creatures abound in the bounties of nature
 The one-horned rhino, the mighty elephant, the majestic leopard, and the great byson
 Have all lived here since time began;
  Home to exotic flora; huge beautiful trees thrive in this fertile land;
  Mahogany, teak, and deodar grow amidst spectacular shrubbery.
  Home to thousands this lovely land offers great weather all year round
 Winters are chilly but the Sun braves the chill and warms the land
  Summers short and easy to brave before
 The long monsoon steps in, eventually
 Giving way to a glorious autumn;
 People of different races, faiths and creeds, mingle
 At crowded bazaars in little townships; where wares of life are traded
With strangers and friends alike;

  And life goes on peacefully day after day at a leisurely pace. 

The Strike

A week since life became quiet
A week since men & women lie idle
A week since machines lie idle
A week since quiet reigns
A week since it rains quietly 
As if to say where has joy gone
A week since the birds went shrill
As if to say where have the people gone
A week since movements became quiet 
As if to say where has purpose gone.
A week since a giant enterprise lay quiet
Quietened by petty wranglings of men
Large egos refusing to see the larger picture
Creating hardship,distress, & hunger
A week since quiet reigns.
O for the return of noise !!
Noise of enterprise at work
Of men & women skilfully putting nature to work
And bringing to themselves the fruit of sweat
- honest bread & contentment.
K K Mehra



In Moonee on a September morn

I woke up to an azure bright sky

& decided to sit out on the lawn.

Rectangular and without much depth, at first

I wondered how different from the one I left behind.

And then as peace got to me

I noticed several birds flitting fleatingly for a sip at the pot

I noticed the many trees that adorn the lawn

Gracefully majestic; swaying as if to a song

And the clouds beyond floating ,lazy as

If to say it’s only dawn.

 The bamboo hedge stands upright opaque and

I wonder what lies yonder

For I can see the tops of Cassia trees and the distant blue hills beyond;

Between ‘booms’ from the nearby airport being readied to receive the days arrivals

 I realize it is time to wake up from my reverie

And meanwhile dawn has welcomed the morn.


Monsoon Rain

I went to bed last night to the pitter patter of the rain

Sounds of the night lay muffled bar a frog at the pond.

Sleep was easy ,relaxed , unaware

Till the clatter on the roof became a crescendo

Loud, unceasing ,wild

And one lay awake wondering if it was real

The Monsoon in the Dooars is surreal.

Clasps of thunder accompany streaks of lightening

And rain drops  the largest ever.

Dawn broke to heavy rain

Grey, warm , humid and moist

All day it poured

Singing a song of happiness – an ode to “megha”

A celebration of life

Ebbing once againinto a pitter patter

With the distant frog being a reminder

Life goes on.


 Moonee 2

Moonee where I live lies on the fringe of a plateau
Overlooking a vast expanse of paddy
A tiny stream curling its way through;
Swelling with rain & turning silent, calm when it abates.
To the West lies the highway, closeby;/
Traffic you can hear roaring
Slows down near the bend
Each vehicle telling the story of the man behind the wheel
In a hurry! Breaks, screeches,
Causes pain; curses, takes off
While the one at ease approaches gradually
Negotiates the bend & goes off smoothly.
And the road a mute witness; does it also feel;
And is there a message that the roadsmen leave?
I get a birds eye-view of the runway; begins to stir.
The whirring of a rotor
The Armyman ready to fly off,
To meet the sentinels of our hills
Leaves an assurance behind
He is there so that I can sleep.
Several birds meanwhile announce their presence continually
Some sharp & shrill, others making guttural sounds
And of course the crow
Telling me we all live;
And there goes the water-pump ‘chug chug’
Saying get-up ;
The day must begin.
At Moonee 

   Elephants in the wild

On a Wednesday night in July
Four cars in a row were to the 'plateau' bound'
Suddenly dark forms up ahead - huge
Shadowy lazy movements that froze momentarily
In a split second parted
Going down the embankment of the road
The cars froze; excited occupants
Waited with baited breath
Three to the left and one to the right
The shadows were now restless
On the right full face into the headlights
Beautiful creature with glorious tusks
Ears flapping with excitement
A memory to carry forever
Too near  one sensed
Took off screeching past the herd
Stationary on either side
Elephants in the wild.




















 I realize it is time to wake up from my reverie

And meanwhile dawn has welcomed the morn.

..                                                                                                           .