A WALK THROUGH FIELDS

The asphalt road I took this morning is precariously narrow; the farmlands with full-grown crops swaying in the morning breeze where water-soaked with a heavy downpour that lasted for a week. The overcast sky was dull and discouraging for any of my efforts I have planned to go for green fields, walking the paths of mud. I want to step through the acres of maize crop partly veiled by morning fog, banana plantations pregnant with ripened fruit bunches, catching the glistening reflections tingling in small pools formed in the troughs separating the road and the expanse of the green landscape as far my eye could reach.

I couldn’t take my eyes off, stood for a while stuck at nature’s sketch before me. There, in the center of the monsoon glory, parked a lone tree as if commanding the entire landscape behind it, and its bold reflection caught my attention. In whatever facet I approached it, with my camera, not to upset the calm waters about the poised signpost, the whole unspoiled view felt something dreamlike – fresh, green, and very full.