From The Foot Board Of The Train What Did I See It? Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

From the foot board of the train,
What did I see,
Do you know?
I am telling.

I saw the hamlets,
Hamlet boys and girls,
The small-small mud-built
And thatched houses.

I saw the train
Gathering speed, chugging,
Speeding and passing through
The lonely forests.

It saw summer,
The loo was blowing
And the sun seemed to be scorching,
Blazing it hot.

The earth was dry and parched
With the cracks visible around,
But not bereft of greenery,
Still the trees were with greener buds.

When it did cross the rivulet,
The sound of the iron bridge
Used to hurtle beautifully
Engaging the mind.

But while it passing through
The green lonely paddy fields
Saw I two golden jackals at daytime
Looking to the train with fear and gasping.

Perhaps they would have hesitated in
Taking the direction
And the shy wild animals
They often meet with accidents in crossing speedily.

Again I saw the golden chains,
Golden chains of flowers bedecking the wild,
The forest ranges
Just like the wreaths, garlands hanging from.

Beating heat and dust, rise in temperature
And the intensity of summer,
I saw the bunches of gulmohars hanging
Some very reddish, some very range-flaring.

The purple jaruls I saw them hanging,
Bedecking the landscape,
Making the scenery excellent and panoramic,
How could it be?

Then thereafter saw I the white lotuses
Blooming in the pond,
The white lotuses
By the railway tracks into the fields.

Sometimes the homely thoughts lifted me,
Where was I,
Where was I going,
Why the journey onwards?

While passing through the orchards,
Mango groves and gardens,
Saw I the small-small cashew nut trees,
The jack fruits ripening.

The black berries so blackly and sweet and sour,
The wooden pulpy bels,
The scent from the mango trees
I could not resist it.

Had the train stopped, I would have
Plucked the purple black berries to taste,
The jack fruits yellowish and fibred,
Tasty mangoes of varieties in taste.

Had it, I would have plucked the jasmines
Blooming into the secluded tracts,
With redolence writ large and its sweetness,
Creeper belis and kursi blooms.

Again wished I catch and talk to painted storks,
Big and bulging birds,
Black and white coloured big birds
Which I had not before.

Summer flowers I just saw them
Flowering into the tracts
Bereft of fauna and flora
By the shal trees.

I saw them and asked about
The in-dwellers,
Bears, deer, wolves,
Elephants and tigers.

I enquired about the Lord of the Hills,
Brahmadevata, Yaksharaj,
Nature, its flora and fauna
But the forests stood it silent, speechless.

The God of the Woods said it not
Remaining all but silent, speechless,
Just barren hills, deforested tracts
Hinted it all what it happened to the wild greenery.

The forest had been home to peacocks,
Vultures and kites,
The foothills with the porcupines
And other varieties.

The small-small girls I saw them
Standing on the high land
By the tracts
And waving at us.

Again I saw them going to school
The small-small girls
With bags and slates
Filling me with utter joy.

On seeing the Bharat ki garb bitia,
Bitias are always poor,
Not of being mien or thine,
They are always poor.

The daughter of maya,
Maya and moha,
The pyari bitia, lovely daughter,
Bhart ki pyari bitia.