While I was on the bus, I met Mritu—a school bully I absolutely despised.
Soon, the train sped past the station into a path surrounded by deep woods—woods so thick that even sunlight struggled to pierce through. The green fields stretched wide and far, dotted with buffaloes grazing and being cleaned in nearby lakes. Fields were being plowed by tractors.
The hot sun shone down on me, and surprisingly, I liked it. For a reason I couldn't explain, I felt refreshed. A wave of pure joy washed over me. It was as if nature was calling to me with an irresistible rhythm. Perhaps it was just my imagination… or perhaps not.
As we moved forward, we came beside a train—or so I thought. It seemed like an abandoned one at first, but soon I realized it was actually at a station. I hadn't noticed it earlier—I was lost in a trance, dreaming of the adventures ahead.
Then reality struck. The truth of this cruel world dawned on me. The trees I remembered from childhood—so deep and thick—had now vanished, reduced to trunkless roots. The once-dense forests had been cut down and turned into barren plains. We often don't realize that in harming nature, we're not damaging someone else's world—we're sabotaging our own future.
In front of me sat a couple. I guessed so by the way they ate together and interacted. Around us, vendors passed by selling samosas, water (or should I say H2O), and other snacks.
Men and women could be seen working in their farms.
I've always felt deeply connected to nature and its simplicity. As Emily Dickinson once wrote:
"Nay—Nature is Heaven"
And
"Nay—Nature is Harmony."
After a while, we reached Sidharth Nagar Station, where a dozen people poured in. I must say, these days traveling by train is much easier with reserved seats than the old 'sit-where-you-like' method.
We stopped at the station for just a minute or two before moving again—this time into a less dense, but still lively, wilderness. Gradually, the forest gave way to signs of human settlement—showrooms, public schools, and more—all presented in a rural manner.
It reminded me of my village... and most importantly, of my first crush—Ishita.
I remembered her grazing the animals, looking every bit like her name suggests: "goodness." Her eyes were so deep and mysterious that even the vast ocean seemed like a shallow puddle in comparison.
It was summer. The fields were empty, waiting for seeds to be planted.
Looking into the horizon, I couldn't help but wonder: where was she now? Had she accomplished her dream of becoming a top-level spy? Maybe she was on a secret mission… maybe one that involved me. Or maybe she was in this very train, disguised. Or maybe not. Maybe she was still in the village, waiting for me to return.
As the sun began to dip, the light that once bathed me in warmth began to fade, its intensity softening with time.