Lack of sleep.
The beauty of the Palash trees, blazing orange, and earning their name, "Flame of the Forest". A very young girl with an axe in her hand, off to get firewood,the hard way.
A long veil of mist over the fields, as the landscape changes from forest to agriculture.
The sun, gathering force for the daily fierce assault, even though we are supposed to be in Vasanta Ritu, not Grishma.
A few wild flowers, colourful fields of cultivated ones.
Small temples, beacons of the farmers' faith and hope.
Sugarcane and paddy fields denoting plenty of water.
The call of the chai vendor.
The hypnotic rhythm of the carriage wheels.
The coach of the train that is more than half empty, thanks to Covid.
The pleasure of travelling with a much lower carbon footprint, travelling in a clean carriage, and having a bay of four plus two berths all to myself.
The joys of train travel.
More than half the coach will be empty, but the hungriest babies, and the loudest- voiced passengers who have never heard of earphones, will be in the bay next to yours. You have travelled sleeplessly and boarded the train at 5:30am.....the next-bay passengers wake up at 9 am, and are in fine fettle for the morning chorus of raucous laughter and high-decibel debates. At night, of course, the person in the berth above or next to yours will be the loudest snorer ever.
Murphy's law of train travel!