Train from Mysore to Bangalore India - By Lucy -January 19th 1992

The Train is moving along , the horn sounds from time to time . I look from the window and see some indian life !

The Tall grass stands so high above the butterflies fly .

The palm tree in the distance .

A boy with his ox & cart.

A woman bathes in water puddles along the way .

A herd of goats feed from the remains of a chopped down grass harvest !

The land is mowed and ploughed.

Tall elegant figures carrying goods on top of their heads perfect of posture .

Smells so bad blow through the window , we slowly reach another town lots of trucks and little shops selling chai , a black old taxi catches my eye !

A man sits crossed legged upon a bench another man pisses just behind , voices chattering very fast , Im an unusual content of this train a woman travelling alone , this is something they cant explain, no comprehension , different thoughts rush through their minds - She wants a husband they think !

In the distance a mountain made of stone , pure rock no green to show.

The land is dry but water streams flow by, mountains like the wild west , look out for the bandits I think next !

What a place this India !

A great eagle flys through the air, white doves fly everywhere.

Sheep trotting through barren land .

Colourful flowers grow on the edge of the railway lines, pink, green , yellow, a blend of colours like some of their clothes.

A blend .

Some heavy work for the women, who bring beauty to the country, scrubbing the clothes, working the land.

Eyes continue to watch me as I sit , suspicion hatred maybe, that I am allowed this freedom, she's a woman should not be allowed.

And still as I look a woman hangs her families clothes out to dry .

A temple shrine, displaying the sacred cow, .

but she is treated very foul.

Smoke comes from the next carriage.

The horn is blown again.

The train picks up speed , I suddenly realise I am in an all mans carriage, its just something I will have to manage .