There is a rail track near a place where I stay. It runs through an otherwise deserted stretch of land.
At the dead of night, a train or two would rush through the tracks like a bolt of lightning...headed for its next destination. It looks interesting pitched against the darkness of the stretch of land.
I remember being in many such trains in my childhood. Sitting inside, looking at the darkness fly by with occasional silhouettes. I was never really sure where I was at those moments. Only thing I knew was from where I had left and where I was headed.
Looking at these trains rush past from afar, I feel like shouting out the location to the passengers. Not that they want to know anyway. I perhaps hope that someone like me sits there...wanting to know the place which he is passing by and may not ever come back again.
Maybe its time for me to step out of the train and listen to my own voice telling me where I am and then maybe the destination or the place I left behind wouldn't matter anymore. Maybe what would only matter will be the present where I am there...both on the train and outside looking at the train. Where everything becomes one and it all makes sense and you know where you are.
At the dead of night, a train or two would rush through the tracks like a bolt of lightning...headed for its next destination. It looks interesting pitched against the darkness of the stretch of land.
I remember being in many such trains in my childhood. Sitting inside, looking at the darkness fly by with occasional silhouettes. I was never really sure where I was at those moments. Only thing I knew was from where I had left and where I was headed.
Looking at these trains rush past from afar, I feel like shouting out the location to the passengers. Not that they want to know anyway. I perhaps hope that someone like me sits there...wanting to know the place which he is passing by and may not ever come back again.
Maybe its time for me to step out of the train and listen to my own voice telling me where I am and then maybe the destination or the place I left behind wouldn't matter anymore. Maybe what would only matter will be the present where I am there...both on the train and outside looking at the train. Where everything becomes one and it all makes sense and you know where you are.
