Oh for the love of a window seat…

That window seat that took me through forests
Through the fragrance of rain and moss,
Blooming mahua , deep red of silk cotton
Frightening thunder and lightening

Those road travels on work
To remote destinations
Driving back on full moon nights
Glowing streams and stones

The window of the boat
So close to the splashing water
Poised cormorants
Perched atop trunks of trees
Gulls hovering above

That window which scales the hills
Turning roads and houses into tiny bits
The butterflies in the stomach when it speeds down

The window that shows an old railway building
Where the train used to halt once upon a time
But not any more
Grass growing on its roof and trees inside
How long has it been?
That window which looks at the vast expanse of the sea
Bridge over a shining sheet

The open windows of a running train
Blowing breeze through the clothes
The heat and sweat

On a bus by the open window
In lashing rain
It would not shut
Rusted iron refusing to budge
Soaked wet in a cold winter sleepless night

The side lower berth
Pull the curtain and its your moving home

Gazing at the goats and streams during the day
The passing lights of cities and houses
The window from which I waved at children
Playing near the train tracks
The cycles, buses, cars and walkers
Waiting for the train to pass
That crossroad of momentary connection

That window which holds the hope
To show
me the falls with milky white waterI stay awake for the show

 

 

 

 

That pagdandi, path made by people’s feet
Leading to villages with unheard names
Can I get off and walk
Into their daily chores of bricks and mortar
That window seat on a plane

The first glimpse of snow on the mountains
The clouds in flowing rows, like the smoke from cooking hung over the plains
Or fog in the early mornings
Sights of the hills below
Emerging from under layers of cloud.

That one time, when the window framed the sky, the clouds and the setting sun
A rainbow
With the colours from the setting sun,
It looked like ember on snow.

The window that is my first glimpse
Of Home
The longing same as always
The window with its view, similar but never the same

Oh for the love of that window seat…