bhaskar saikia

“Those who have no time to enjoy the beauty of nature have no advantage over those who cannot see.”
— Bhaskar Saikia

I’ve often wondered what it truly means to see. In our daily rush — between deadlines, devices, and endless noise — we pass by trees, skies, rivers, and quiet corners of the world as if they were scenery in someone else’s story. We look, but we rarely see.

There is no real difference between blindness and neglect. The person who cannot see nature and the one who does not pause to see it — both live in darkness of different kinds. One is bound by circumstance; the other, by choice.

Nature does not demand attention; it simply offers presence. The rustle of leaves, the call of a distant bird, the curve of sunlight on an old wall — these are not luxuries. They are invitations to notice, to belong, to feel alive.

It is through observing how nature behaves — how it endures, renews, and quietly transforms — that I am able to write poetry or songs. The rhythm of rain, the silence of dawn, the persistence of a leaf growing through a crack in stone — all of it speaks in verses if one only listens long enough. My words are, in many ways, nature’s reflections written in human language.

To enjoy the beauty of nature is not an escape from life; it is life. The act of noticing, of truly seeing, reconnects us to something ancient and essential within ourselves. It reminds us that we are part of the same breathing, growing rhythm.

And perhaps that’s the quiet truth: sight alone does not make us awake — awareness does.