The bus would pass by those fields everyday. Except for Sundays and important holidays. The streets and stories that led and passed by those fields were all so similar, with just bits and pieces of everyday differences sprinkled in to make the world believable.
The bus was a world by itself; it had stories, music, lives that were lived (and some that existed), redundant routines, and a collection of exotic exceptions every now and then. It was my first day in that bus, or what was going to be a part of my world for the next 4 years. It was the first day of my school, new school at that time.
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Our school was outside the main town, or should I say amidst a small clearing of sorts surrounded by rows and rows of eucalyptus trees. There were no machined-looking buildings (often termed as modern and simple), like the ones one would imagine as a school building, straight-lined with no character-defining details.
We had octagonal cottage-like structures, there were clusters of three to four cottages, and such clusters were spread all across the campus. The cottages in these clusters housed classrooms, offices, and other necessary facilities. To go from your classroom to science lab, or art class, or the library, one would take a stroll among those beautiful trees that filtered the sunrays that wafted a mild scent of eucalyptus bark and leaves. The nearest small town was 20 minutes away. So, I used to call that place middle of nowhere and everywhere (MONE – suggested pronunciation: like how Monet is pronounced).
I loved the new place for it was straight out of a story book.
It was my first year in that school; I had transferred from my previous/childhood school which was right in the busy heart of town. I loved the new place for it was straight out of a story book. However, I did have my apprehensions because I would be so far and so almost-immediately-unreachable distance away from my parents, my home. I had only been once before to the school on the day when I had my entrance test scheduled. This was my second time, but first one alone. Thoughts, rather concerns of kinds, laced with hints of excitement were all over my mind. I missed my old school, my parents, and even the town.
While the nestled thoughts played like a movie with too many plots played on my mind, I looked at the roads, fields, and houses through the bus window. The bus was packed, rather over-packed, with students (who had already found their friends) and their animated and whispered talks. I heard the voices but not the conversations.
After about 15 milestones, I witnessed something that would make me await for them every spring and summer, probably for life.
The bus kept moving on routinely, and with each passing milestone, I knew school wasn’t very far away. I didn’t want the milestones to stop; I wanted to go on and on with the bus, even though the journey wasn’t exactly comfortable. After about 15 milestones, I witnessed something that would make me await for them every spring and summer, probably for life.
In an unassuming and calm neighbourhood, there was a vast sprawling field of majestic sunflowers, golden and dreamlike. The view was absolutely sublime. I have always loved sunflowers but had never seen a vast field with so many sunflowers shining in all their glory. Thankfully, I was seated towards the western side which allowed me to view the face of the flowers as they looked at the sun. That also meant, while returning I would be on the eastern side and could see the sunflowers facing the sun again. Destiny sure was having its way--- or atleast so it felt at that moment.
They say one needs to meditate to achieve thoughtlessness or a single line of thought. If that is true, I was possibly in a state of mediation then.
They say one needs to meditate to achieve thoughtlessness or a single line of thought. If that is true, I was possibly in a state of mediation then. I was completely enamored by the sunflowers and had let go of all the thoughts that were there until few seconds ago. I had completely submitted my thoughts to that magnificence.
The thoughts of the field stayed with me even when we crossed that and reached the school. While returning, I eagerly waited for the flowers again. Days passed by and vacation arrived sooner than expected. During vacations, I found myself missing them. Though I knew that they won’t be there when we return to school after vacations, I still awaited that field. During winters the field was filled with mustard flowers and they too looked splendid basking in the warmth of the winter rays. And they would tell me that spring is just around the corner and soon I would meet the sunflowers again. I would smile along with the mustard flowers while waiting for the sunflowers to arrive.
And they would tell me that spring is just around the corner and soon I would meet the sunflowers again.
Four years in that school passed by and I would wait the entire year’s bus journey for those couple of minutes (to and fro) of sunflowers during the few days of summer. I remember the roads that we took everyday, the mini farms, the hillocks, temples, and the conversations that I had with friends. But the way I remember the sunflowers is different than everything else.
With the changing times and vanishing landscapes in the name of development, I don’t know whether that field where the sunflowers smiled and loved would still be there. But I can’t imagine of anything else there. Every summer of my life and sometimes during days of other seasons too, I keep remembering my sunflowers. And will always do.
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A Little Something:
Composed on September 22, 2024, Sunday, during a lunch that brought back memories of the sunflowers.
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