I wrote this on a bus to an ashram in Maharashtra as I compared the freshness of rural air there to that which I had felt on my way from Bangalore to my school in the hills, Rishi Valley School in Andhra Pradesh:
It's the same familiar air,
Hills of that same terrain,
But the only difference remains-
That it really isn't quite it.
Those queasy bumps on the road are amiss,
The toll we pay's much more.
It seems to me that all it is
Is the slow passage of time.
I want to believe it's the same Sun setting,
I want to feel as free;
But heart in heart I know the truth-
The long established hard hitting fact.
It was just a journey I embarked on.
It became much more than my world.
As two worlds parted, a new emerged,
I, a by-stander, just stood and watched.