Weaving Tapestries, Painting Pictures, Dreaming Dreams

We board the Zapadni Express at Prague’s main station and are soon on our way to a small town in Bavaria, Germany. We pass the bridge near Smichov and do not know where to look, for on one side of the Vlatava is the imposing site of Prague Castle while on the other side, much closer is the Cathedral of Peter and Paul at Výšehrad. A short time out of Prague we crane our necks to see the Berounka, which flows besides us but on the other side. We are passing the Czech countryside, undulating landscape in all shades of green. We pass some plantations of new trees standing uniformly slender and tall without any variety. We pass thick forests of a rich variety of old ancient trees, trees which have been there for ever so long, trees which say 1we belong here, this is our home, if only man respected the homes of others’ and left their habitats alone, but each year these are dwindling and disappearing right before our eyes. We are passing small villages of red roofed houses clustered round a church, a typical and beautiful sight of rural Europe. The houses, unlike the ugly structures in many countries today, merge with the landscape and enhance it. We passed busy bustling Pilsen, as we moved out we passed rows of graceful old buildings which are the beautiful embellishment of urban Europe, unfortunately later we rolled by a couple of abandoned factories which lay like massive scars on the land. Why were they not dismantled and scrapped and the land used for something environmentally friendly and aesthetic instead of being left here to rot and be eyesores for the all who pass by? Later we passed some tall plain rectangular structures forced upon a beauty loving, peaceful people by an unimaginative, oppressive and repressive regime, during a time which has fortunately long gone. Perhaps the rotting factories were remnants of those days. Domažlice the border station passed unnoticed while I was chatting with a fellow Indian passenger. I got a feeling of place only when I heard the announcement that we were nearing Furth im Wald the first German station across the border, on this line. I love this border free travel in Europe where sometimes one is only aware of having crossed a border when the network changes. As I type this I see the German police, we offer them our passports but they say “it’s Ok’ and go on their way, maybe they are just passengers as well as they are not checking anyone’s papers. The beautiful landscape continues on this side. The clouds are more scattered now and the sun brightens the greens of this beautiful landscape. We pass another town, Cham this time, once more we pass thickly clustered house and a couple of church spires and unfortunately some ugly factory and office buildings, sadly a necessary evil for the prosperity of the region. Once more we pass the countryside, there is an hour left to our destination, Regensburg. Three hours since Prague have just flown. Once more we enter an emerald world. A world of grassy plains, small pools which mirror the surrounding verdure or shine bright as the sunlight scatters diamonds on them, or calmly stay blue and white reflecting the sky and a passing cloud or two. We pass some thick forests, with beckoning paths twisting through them. Some more rows of tall trees appear, the landscape is now and then dotted with scattered clusters of red roofed houses surrounded by fields bordered with windbreaks of trees, behind in the distance forested blue green hills appear and disappear. Sometimes the landscape undulates, grassy hills, hillocks, knolls pass by, some with trees, some with a house or two. Suddenly newer tall plantations cover both sides of the tracks obscuring everything else from view. The trees are planted too close for them to develop thick trunks and grow. The thought saddens me. I see a pile of neatly cut logs on one side, which saddens me further for in them I see the future of these trees, planted not to grow thick and big for the coming generations to enjoy, but for short term goals, to be cut down and burnt on someone’s hearth. Clusters of yellow and pink wildflowers grow besides the tracks adding splashes of colour and beauty taking my mind off the sad facts of our times. We are nearing Regensburg, I reflect back on the beauty of this journey and realise I could not capture it nor even do it an iota of justice.

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