Feb 9, 2016

from my train window

Fat tree, thin tree, no leaves tree..
Where is the trunk tree, short tree, oh my god huge tree…
No no don’t worry. This isn’t my horrible attempt at writing a poem about trees. I am writing this while seated in the train travelling home. And yet again my train journey inspired me to write.
As usual I end up sitting in the door watching the world pass by. Its beautiful what all we get to see. Like an art exhibition. One canvas after the other. Each more creative, more fascinating than the previous. Its like marathon of colors. Every crop, every field , every tree with its unique tone. Hues of green, yellow, orange. All possible shades one can imagine. The moment you think you saw it all, totally new shade will surprise you. The shade card doesn’t stop there; sky isn’t far behind mother earth. It will show you stunning tones of crystal clear blue to blazing yellow, tranquil deep orange. The transformation of the of palate will leave you dazed.
That not it what you get to see. You would get to witness the inspirations of an artist. The small temple sitting quietly along the canal.  A peacock in its full glory walking in the meadow. Small well along with ladies clad in colorful drapes. The village school next to the tracks. It’s so close, every time the train passes by, kids wave cheerful goodbyes. Bullock cart and the clinging bells. One giant neem tree sitting in the midst of a farm. As the protector of realm. That lone white bird in the backdrop of lush green. The shepherd looking over his flock sitting under the tree.
Today I got to see something new. The entire farm on fire, they do it after harvest. To end the last crop and begin the new one. The blaze were so high , I could feel the heat sitting so far away. Also got to see sunset. The sun transformed itself from bright orange to soothing red dot. It was so serene so beautiful. I forgot to to take a picture. But then I realized my camera lens won’t do justice to it. To the painting no artist can portrait.  At that moment I thought to myself…
Everything has an end, for something more beautiful to begin.

Reminds me of a rhyme I wrote once..
“at last goes the sun..
its not the end..

new era has begun..”