With a native place that is six hours away from my current place of residence, I rely primarily on the Indian railways every time I go home. Besides being a comfortable, leisurely journey, as compared to its bumpier by-road counterpart.
The times that I am not nodding off in slumberland, I spend in looking out of the window. And wondering how it would be to one day, alight from the train at some sleepy-looking hamlet, where the train probably stops for just about a minute, before chug-chugging off in speed to its intended destination.
Eager bright-eyed children, tired women who walk with tinkling anklets around their ankles, sarees tucked in at their waists, men with turbans, dipping biscuits and “mathris” into sweet-boiling-hot tea, the elderly slowly walking the length of the platform, to fill their flasks with water from the trickling taps, all the while wearily waiting for their train. All of them, and yet some more – beckon.
Sometimes, I feel like dismounting, and setting off on an adventure, one that has no map, no key, no chart.
No one to pull me back, no work outstretching towards me - only an enthusiasm to go forth, and discover a new place.
Perhaps one day I will do just that
But till then I will just press my face closer to the window-pane…
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