The train rocks gently through the Indian countryside. Immense fields of red earth burning under the scorching sun sweep past the open doors. Little silhouettes of men and oxen plough the land. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
Old temples and mountains of granite, pilgrims from remote villages, a hermit in a lost ashram. The rice fields and the coconut palms. Lakshmi bathing in the sacred waters. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
Dozens of hands reach out for food or a last goodbye through the glassless windows of sleeper class coaches in hectic stations. A fanfare preludes innumerable announcements. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
Swarms of yellow and green rickshaws clog the roads of cities and villages alike. “BLOW HORN!” shines colourfully on the back of every other vehicle — ubiquitous electric mantra, hallucination of progress drowned in the thick fumes of evaporated empires. A woman preparing white flower offerings oblivious of the chaos. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
The dreamy eyes of a young mother gazing at the city lights from her berth, her newborn daughter softly wrapped in her colourful sari. Sacks of atta being unloaded in the darkness. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
Old temples and mountains of granite, pilgrims from remote villages, a hermit in a lost ashram. The rice fields and the coconut palms. Lakshmi bathing in the sacred waters. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
Dozens of hands reach out for food or a last goodbye through the glassless windows of sleeper class coaches in hectic stations. A fanfare preludes innumerable announcements. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
Swarms of yellow and green rickshaws clog the roads of cities and villages alike. “BLOW HORN!” shines colourfully on the back of every other vehicle — ubiquitous electric mantra, hallucination of progress drowned in the thick fumes of evaporated empires. A woman preparing white flower offerings oblivious of the chaos. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
The dreamy eyes of a young mother gazing at the city lights from her berth, her newborn daughter softly wrapped in her colourful sari. Sacks of atta being unloaded in the darkness. "Chai! Chai!" chants the tea seller.
