Trains always make me introspective.
The ever-so-eager rhythm and the restlessly changing
landscape, the pitch darkness outside, the smell of fresh air, especially when
I stand by the door and smoke and let the wind run wild through my hair; all this, while
life whizzes by like a constant blur.
I sometimes fancy living a small life. Possibly in the
larger scheme of things, I already am. ‘An extra in the coffeshop window’ for
the passerby; the passerby with a myriad of entangled stories, just like mine;
only, in his universe I am merely a countenance-less face in the window his
side vision registered for a brief second.
Nevertheless, in my fancy, I sometimes live a life, far more
insignificant, by perhaps my own standards. A life, in a small hut by the train
tracks, with that sole lantern lighting up the verandah at dusk, while I lay on
my cot, and let the sound of the trains lull me to sleep. Maybe in that world,
I wouldn't suffer from insomnia. I’d wake up to the sunrise, finish my daily
chores and then while the rest of the day away, into the sunset, listening to
ancient tales from yet more ancient grandfathers, all the time playing with pebbles
and bringing some back even, to add to my ever growing, proud collection of
knick-knacks.
Maybe in that world,
I’d smile back uninhibited, at smiling strangers, instead of tightening my grip
around the can of pepper spray I don’t leave home without; maybe I’d trust
people simply because I’ve never known otherwise, instead of continually
looking for the minutest clue that would give away the catch; maybe the tiniest
gesture of love, and its remnants, would make my day for months, years perhaps,
instead of merely brewing bitterness at expectations having been dashed. Maybe,
I’d also have the capacity to see black and white distinctly, and to tell them
apart, instead of straining my eyes each time, to correctly identify the
precise shade of grey. A world, where I’d not do anything remotely revolutionary,
make no difference to the inane frenzy the world thrives in, have no
self-acclaimed-earth-shattering revelation about the general anguish of life and yet lead
a content life.
A world where I’d not be expected to do any more than light
up someone’s world, with a cup of tea and a smile. Their smile, in turn, would light
up mine.
Maybe in that world I’d stop and look at every passing
train, scourging out strangers waving to me from the train, in the midst of
their destination-less journey and wave back to them. All the time, fervently
wishing, their life was mine!
