Bus is moving smoothly, sometimes
bumping
Through the roads of the plains
Not a short journey
It’s a thirteen hours ride
It’s a month of December
And the day is cold
Sun is behind the clouds
Its appearance is as of the silver coin
Sometimes thin rays of the sun fall on
the earth
Thick fog is accompanying the clouds
Most of the passengers are asleep
Old Bollywood songs are coming out of
the stereo
Outside the window
I can see the beauty of the plains
There I can see empty paddy fields
Haystacks in the shape of small huts
Green sugarcane fields and
Yellow mustard fields
Farmers still working despite of cold
My eyes are getting heavy
My thoughts are drifting with the cold
air
Ahead I can see the road so straight
Slowly my vision is getting blur
Slowly my eyelids cover my world
When I was travelling in my virtual
world
The bus is taking to my actual
destination
