I’ve been on a train for the past six hours and I felt like sharing something I wrote to a friend on an e-mail sometime ago whilst I was travelling on the same train, going to and from the same places.

………

I’m sitting here, in a chair car. It’s an AC coach but I prefer standing by the open doors between two bogeys. The wind whipping my hair, raw and restless- just as my heart when it travels. 

There is the sun, which I see only as a yellowing haze in the sky. And there are these clouds which are rosy and soft and look dreamy- reminding me of my first kiss, of my mother’s lullabies, of the times I slowly wept in the nights i could not sleep through. 

The train is crossing past an inconspicuous little town, named and branded upon the yellow stone by the tiny station’s beginning. And the train doens’t stop here, though my thoughts do. I cran my neck a little to notice the name of place better, but then I give it up realising that the name would mean very little compared to what the place actually would be. A world in itself, with people who were worlds in themselves. Scurrying men and women. Lost in the afternoon of another day in their life. 

And these days will come and pass like trains upon stations. 

Somedays would stay a little longer, some would rush past uncaring. Some would be emptier, some full of rush- housing people, thoughts, words, voices, experiences… lives. 

Maybe this is what travelling does to me. 

It makes every muse feel like a disconnected tangent and yet all of which coalesce to make a complete circle of understanding. The understanding of wholesomeness of life. A universal, unfathomable, unpredictable yet understandable philosophy of existence. 

It perplexes me how each little detail conspires a million muses in my head and overwhelms me out of my wits such that the need to write becomes crucial for my sanity. 

It was perhaps rightly said, by Emily Dickinson: “If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know it is poetry.”


Maybe that’s the way I write. It probably is a never ending discovery of myself through the phenomenon I perceive- internal or external. 

………..

Thank you Yashluv, for being the reason and first recipient of these words. 😊

3 thoughts on “Trains and thoughts 

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