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A
clear turquoise blue sky above with not a spec of cloud and beneath it the
equally attractive sheet of blue water that I could see over the green
tree-tops was breathtaking. And beyond the azure waters the undulating greens
of Shamla Hills made for a beautiful setting. A young Sun was shooting its
yellow rays down on to the houses hitting their white-washed walls that faced
it that looked like blotches of yellow paint. These yellows stood out in the
surrounding blues and the greens of the trees. What a marvelous sight! And to top
it all, four enterprising young men, braving the cold, were out sailing with
their white sails unfurled. The whites of their sails, the blues of the skies above
and the Lake below, the yellows of the houses and the greens of the trees,
their branches dancing in the breeze made an incredibly beautiful sight.
This
is perhaps the best season for the town when the rain-washed skies are at their
bluest, shorn off of all the muck and mist and the sun shining brightly has yellow
in the morning rays and amber in those in the evenings. The evenings, in fact,
are more dramatic as the sun prepares to go down in the Western skies. Fluffy
cottony clouds acquire a golden hue reflecting the dying rays of the sun as it
dips below the horizon. Within minutes the Western sky takes on a pinkish tinge,
only to change over to purple and then crimson as the sun goes further down to
light up the other Western lands.
It
has been more than twenty years yet I, it seems, cannot get enough of the dramatic play of colours over the millennium old Lake. I have marvelled at its beauty in winters, summers and the monsoons and it hardly ever fails to amaze me. I cannot thank enough the legendary king who thoughtfully had it built for his subjects.
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