Lying on the side lower berth,

I head towards…

Vast brown fields

With browner trees, tall sandy shrubs,

And leaves thickly plastered with dry mud,

making them doubly heavy.

A lone electric pole- the only companion

to an empty bench.

A deserted Maranjhiri

Except for a khaki man with a stick.

A dull red clads the dull green folliage.

The Maker has used the same brush in all His laziness!

She is bright.

And loves bright colours.

She may not like this place.

Yet how I wish she were here!

I should get her a yellow dress.

I will.

Ah! How I miss her!

Many poles run

In the red mud-clad land.

Dry and desolate.

A poet would have written a great poem.

Or a painter would have done a masterpiece,

picturing also the two little boys.

The train enters a dark tunnel.

Shouts and laughters

Light again.

Oh! Gone now!

My life?

Ha ha! May be.

Alone,

As I’ve always wished

On a long train journey

Just the setting sun and music for company,

Makes me remember her,

long for her.

Pale orangish, lemony yellow

Does the sun scatter on me.

Grateful to the long window,

I never ask my eyes from it.

Silent and peaceful inside,

away from home I go.

Yet I carry not regret,

nor pain.

I am rather at bliss.

I have chosen this loneliness…

“Chaaai?” No, not now.

My eyes still swallowing the fiery dry vastness,

is hot.

The sand would have pricked my eyes

if I had travelled in sleeper class.

The train slows down…

Comes to a halt.

Have I reached?

No, not yet. Not yet.

I have a long way to go…

A long travel.

A lot many poles to be passed.

A lot many trees to be crossed.

And a really long way to go…

(first published in Cornucopia, a college magazine)