Rustic Splendour

I walk along the narrow ridge thro the farms, the narrow lanes, the surrounding trees, the temple tanks, the temples, the rustic splendour, the quaint country side, the people, their dialect, style of talking, the walk along the glen, the little stiles that one has to jump over, the vast landscape that meets the eye, stretches of fields, beyond the trees, way beyond the mountain ranges,the canvas of the open skies, the humming of the bees, the cheerful cacophony of the birds.

I love the route, the ambience, the typical rustic atmosphere, the walk thro the narrow lane between the fields on either side, the hills in the distance, the sounds of the birds, the dampness of the earth caressing my feet, the gurgling stream alongside. But why do I long to be all alone at such moments, just me and my thoughts, I want to walk all by myself, perhaps break into a run ( as fast as my not so young anymore bones would permit that is), sing aloud to my hearts content, until I reach that little stile that I have to clamber over to reach the cosy shrine .There is this huge Banyan tree in the precincts, and many a time, Ive lain down beneath its benevolent shade, looking up into the vastness of the skies. (after having ensured that there was no one around ofcourse, cos folks dont do such wonderful things usually, u c, what a pity!)

There is a yellowish glow to the evening, portending rain. As we waited at the little shrine, thunder and lightning struck. The huge imposing banyan tree swayed restlessly, the little leaves shivering in twilight. I wouldve loved to soak in the rain, standing there in this little haven all by myself. I felt as if I were a part of nature, that there was no me, just nothingness, but a wholesome void! A sense of contentment seeps thro my soul leaving me wanting nothing. But responsibilities await, time to retreat. The fiery orange blossoms of the Mayflower tree adorn the pathway homewards. I tread gingerly afraid of crushing them under my feet.The rain stops too soon and its hot and sultry again. Nature conned us! God winks at me in silent conspiracy?

(The above jottings are my diary entries during the last summer hols, Alas ! the Banyan tree fell down some months ago, cos some folks cut away the underlying main roots to build an encircling platform-aalthara- and thus the huge tree which had been a mute witness for years bit the dust. )