03.Kings, Queens and the greenery.

02. Trains,tunnels and lullabies

Just another day, another train. This journey in itself is a story-teller.

Besides the gloriously urbanized down south,
existed its counterpart in the city up north: a deprived slum.

Abandoned stations were someone’s home.
Shadows of flyovers and foot-over bridges are kids’ hangout spots.
Space in between railway tracks their pavilion to dry grains(wheat).

Shirtless kids holding cards in their hands as proud as an oyster holds its pearl.

In the age of learning history of kings, queens and empires,
they had king, queen,jack and ace cards in their hands.

In the age of learning geography,
they were into deep study of viable sellable trash digging heaps of waste.

Though Patches of pale face skin hints of the vitamin deficiency,
their smile overpowered their malnutrition.

Sun was at his scorching best, but they were blissfully unaware of the adversities they are in.

With shrill elation, they waved and waved and waved.
Smile in exchange for a wave-back.And a high frequency shout in return.

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“Uncrowned kings and queens”
That’s how they got etched in my  ephemeral memory.
—–
These new co-passengers were very enlightening.
While one had pattern of leaves on his shirt depicting his love for the nature;
the other had disoriented arrows on his shirts displaying para-magnetism.

I could annoy them with my stupid puns, but I really hate to have elevated red patch on my face they might gift.

Had to water my fueling curiosity and shut up.
Though they looked like Anurag Kashyap’s antagonists, they were pleasantly welcoming and humble when spoken to.

And then just post evening, Loco-pilot took us into greenery. Variants of green having not seen before.
Even seen, unnoticed.
That is the trait of beautiful things, they don’t seek attention.

Lush green(in variable tints) farms, black soil, water bodies is all I could see around for the next 60-90 minutes with stations in between and negligible tractors, humans.

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Stinging wind blew across. Blissful fluttering of farms creating their own music.
Hampi is all I could think of. Repository of memories unfurled.
Vague green pictures flashed.
And came along the package of scars.
Scars that have been glamorously hidden in the disguise of words “letting go”.

The thing with memories and recollection is, they are hard encoded. One cannot refrain from those ugly scars the past left and just stay with the beauty.

Some things come with their own punishments.
One cannot refrain from past reprises and repentance.

The dawn came punctually. So did the night, came along a piece of moon.

10m wide water body. Trees. Green farms till visible end.
This was the view. While the moon adjusted its one half with brightness and other with darkness, its mirror image in the water body just romanticized the evening.

Just as I dozed off, the moon went to sleep.
When I woke up, the loud music of track and wheels questioned my intent to travel.

With darkness around, rounds of fear began firing up,
the thrilling speed has becoming scarier;
The art house turned into scary dark house.

The train became scanty and dark while the pleasant music of track n wheels sent shivers down the spine.

The usual questions popped again and didn’t let me sleep.

Have I gone insane ? Where am I headed to ? Is it worth the risk ?

Many questions but no answers, no hear backs. Just as the job interviews.

04 : Gateway to Heaven→

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