I was not too comfortably seated in a rather rickety bus on a characteristic Indian countryside road.The comfort yet remains a very subjective term, as one may often realise passing through the road. Moving on the road with a television screen like window is a tour through the highs and lows of the emotions.The Joy of the the small girl as she waves at you when you drive by saddens while the indifference of the huge towering structures interestingly enthuses.
The green farms contrasting the dark sky as the rains give a respite, were epitome of beauty there grandeur was unmatched and that had to reflect on the countenance of the farmer. Not only he had the means for the next few days but he had added grace to the surrounding which otherwise was dry rocks and flying dead soil. As the poppulation closed the beauty gave way to things I could envy, the giants stood tall humbly welcoming me,the harsh call of a hawker asked me to go to him wishing he would stop, the silence if any drew aperehensions.
I have always loved the sounds, the rising buildings, I have always appericiated the obvious hurry that man is in, I have alwaays adored the man's ability to change the face of earth, every single drive across those farms in there bloom tells me there are are means other than I know.Yet on every single occasion after the drive, I revert back praising and worshiping what I have always laid my faith upon.Somebody has taught me too well, I have learnt it too well so well that I can't unlearn it any more.
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