Yesterday I visited Cherrapunjee. Visited the scenes of my boyhood escapades Looked for the crooks of the trees Where we perched on exam Sundays Hidden from the sun, the warden Plucking berries with the squirrels and birds Reciting poetry and chasing apparitions. But they are gone, all gone. The beautiful huts are still there With a coat of coal and limestone dust But not the beautiful trees without. I traced the trail of the river Where as truant boys we frolicked With some fear of the master's cane And loved the half cooked picnic. Tried to find the mountain pool that once Swallowed a friend and almost me! But, there's only a faint string Among the ragged cheek bones, and where The eye was, just a dry hollow. A pound of flesh and more exacted! The mighty falls are gone and In their stead the quarries resound Rat holes and palaces jostle for space. From afar I hear old Kong Yulin Cry "How green was my valley!"