In my hometown Chittaranjan, there were several types of migratory birds that found their momentary home in the trees beside the lakes. I often watched them flying above the lake water in the winter afternoon. Watching those ravish white wings coupled with the joyful cacophony at the last hours of dusk when there were hundreds of hues playing in the sky and the reflection of the setting Sun slowly dissolving in the lake water, made the sight a delightful watch for me. To accompany them, there were pankhauris, repeatedly immersing their heads in the shallow waters, catching fish, and then washing away the water from their bodies to attentively finish their feasts.

The boatmen were busy in their last rounds of trips on the lake with tourists. I silently watched the play of colors in the dusky sky, and the fading hues of the sunray were bidding farewell to a day – with a reminder leaving for us, that every ending heads toward another beginning.

At that time, sunset seemed to me like a soft prayer of the vagabonds who long to return home.

(Ghore Pherar Gaan means The Song of Homecoming.)

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(This post is part of the series ‘Solace in the Mundaneness’ where I try to tell stories of the everyday things that capture a special place in my heart and they make me feel privileged to live a simple and ordinary life with contentment and peace. This post is also part of Blogchatter A to Z.)