My house GEETOBITAN overlooks a vast expanse. In winter it looks barren; in rains it is greenish and in autumn it is patched white. I am used to it as it has been happening round the year without fail.
From my northern window I see trains run wild afar and suddenly hide behind swinging kash before they appear again where the line of kash stalks ends. How easy it is to enter into furry kash! I sometimes wonder.
After the pujas, close to winter, humans set fire to kash forest. The devouring flames of raging fire clean up forest after forest in their blazing trail. Black smokes screen up the skies. Only charred ends of kash stalks remain around their base after the fiery onslaught.
Kash is gone.
Come the first day of Bhadra, which means the arrival of autumn, from nowhere Kash peeps up again amidst its last year’s destruction. Long white brush comes up here and there, beside rail lines, on sand banks of river, on waste lands.
Nature seems to remind humans that whatever the destruction they may inflict on her, she is indomitable, as she is creative while humans are procreative to accommodate their ever-increasing tribe.
Lo! How Kash flowers are swinging in their surging joy as autumnal breeze blows over them! In glittering sun, they dazzle the bemused humans and mock their effort with unwieldy dance.