Random Musings :
The sky appears to kiss the raw earth, in all its wondrous hues ~ bare brown, radiant red, fertile green ~ expressions of rebirth, life and renewal.
It's only land, where farmers work to the bone ~ their backs bent and foreheads bent in supplication to Gaia ~ wielding the lethal scythe to reap her fruits. Til, wheat and vegetables interspersed with the divine vermilion of marigolds adding richness and colour in the vast lands.
The women sit on their haunches gathering the reap, trimming the edges, creating little hillocks every metre. Have you ever noticed the sheer symmetry on the cultivated land? Rows upon rows of neat saplings, bearing the imprint of the beasts of burden....
All are life givers ~ the land, the animals and the folks that work them ~ heaving, hauling, reaping, shearing, gathering.... everyone a tiny microcosm in the vastness of the lands.
Small and algae ridden ponds are few and far in between. Buffaloes make hay in the wetness, for as long as they can. Bulls rest next to the barrows, having earned their keep for the day while cows and goats graze, gently mooing in the setting sun. I see stray peacocks, majestic in the fields, and a big langur looking for a sweet treat while flocks of parrots rush to grab the last titbits before the night beckons !
It's time to go home now... some recalcitrant goats need to be chased away by their shepherds, and the mangy dogs who are their self appointed guardians, while the buffaloes and cows, amble in contentment, their bells tinkling away in gentle rythmn.
Yet, as they see the train pass, children and youngsters delight in waving to the passengers, innocence and guilelessness writ large on their faces. Older ones, having seen several summers are still enchanted by the train, heads and hands supported by their lathis, stare with smiles tugging away at the corner of their lips.
Life is good. I watch these scenes with a joy that is so singularly in the moment, that worries about an infertile land, dry skies and waterless lakes recede far into the recesses of my mind. It is the now I seek. The now in which I live.
PR@Random Musings
The sky appears to kiss the raw earth, in all its wondrous hues ~ bare brown, radiant red, fertile green ~ expressions of rebirth, life and renewal.
It's only land, where farmers work to the bone ~ their backs bent and foreheads bent in supplication to Gaia ~ wielding the lethal scythe to reap her fruits. Til, wheat and vegetables interspersed with the divine vermilion of marigolds adding richness and colour in the vast lands.
The women sit on their haunches gathering the reap, trimming the edges, creating little hillocks every metre. Have you ever noticed the sheer symmetry on the cultivated land? Rows upon rows of neat saplings, bearing the imprint of the beasts of burden....
All are life givers ~ the land, the animals and the folks that work them ~ heaving, hauling, reaping, shearing, gathering.... everyone a tiny microcosm in the vastness of the lands.
Small and algae ridden ponds are few and far in between. Buffaloes make hay in the wetness, for as long as they can. Bulls rest next to the barrows, having earned their keep for the day while cows and goats graze, gently mooing in the setting sun. I see stray peacocks, majestic in the fields, and a big langur looking for a sweet treat while flocks of parrots rush to grab the last titbits before the night beckons !
It's time to go home now... some recalcitrant goats need to be chased away by their shepherds, and the mangy dogs who are their self appointed guardians, while the buffaloes and cows, amble in contentment, their bells tinkling away in gentle rythmn.
Yet, as they see the train pass, children and youngsters delight in waving to the passengers, innocence and guilelessness writ large on their faces. Older ones, having seen several summers are still enchanted by the train, heads and hands supported by their lathis, stare with smiles tugging away at the corner of their lips.
Life is good. I watch these scenes with a joy that is so singularly in the moment, that worries about an infertile land, dry skies and waterless lakes recede far into the recesses of my mind. It is the now I seek. The now in which I live.
PR@Random Musings
