The night sky was bathed with light
And the silhouettes became hills.
Peals of thunder rolled in,
As the first droplets of rain
Grazed against my face.
Over in the distance,
A storm brewed up,
While the train moved on.

The rumbles grew ever closer
The flashes of grey more frequent
The wind became chillier, but
All the weather did was,
Drive in the fact that,
I was coming home!

I took in all I that I could
The beauty of the mountains,
The sight of the rice-fields and,
The fresh smell of the earth
As the rain poured down.
The wind ruffled my hair,
The thunder roared, lightning snapped
While the train moved on.

The Brahmaputra loomed large,
In all its sheer majesty.
As I looked into the river,
A humbling awe swept through me
Only to be replaced
By the joy of coming home!