When the train moves, the brain rattles!

One of my frenz recently made a trip to Cal.. by train!
She traveled back to dilli .. by train!

And then her gtalk status msg .. faithful as ever .. reflected her state of mind.. and scribbled on it.. was the statement that came forth…
When the train moves, the brain rattles!

She will become a great story teller one day .. I know that!
How do I know??
She lives so many of them herself! She wont be able to help it!

I have already decided to publish her book!

So while am purely thinking business…I have to feed off her thoughts a lil’ … And start respecting and ‘believing’ in her thoughtz!

Why? Gosh! That’s what every good publisher does right! ‘Believez’ in his or her writer!

Pick up any damn book…whether its damned or not… it will always talk about how much the author ‘is indebted to the constant support and faith put in by her publishers in her work!’

So am jz practicing the same!
…
..
.
And in continuum of those effortz…
…
..
.

When the train moves, the brain rattles!

So true!

How many times haven’t I enjoyed that train of thought???

The busy platform!
I have always hated it!
I have never been the one to be patient!
The dirty, smelly trains!
The cooliez rushing past
The fear am gonna lose track searching for the compartment!
Being shoved by not people but their baggage
Almost fearing am gonna die after falling on the trackz
And not being rescued in time
The dangers of the nayi dilli platform I tell you!
How I have hated them!

Finally settling down to gloomy strangers’ faces
That uncomfortable feeling
Cursing myself

Thinking what a pain its gonna be

And then just waiting for the train to at least like get started!!

And just then
While I was busy thinking and hating
The train moved
You think it’s just a jerk…
But the hurried up bye-byes
Tell you
The journey has started!

…
..
.

I go through peculiar feelingz everytime I leave delhi!
Its been my only home!
I truly hate to say goodbye!

Even after going through the life and death ordeal..
I still hate saying goodbye!

I alwez board an evening train!
To down south!

And yeh … so all I have to do is go through my set of peculiar feelingz…Silly as they are .. and then fall asleep!
…
...
.

Morning!
Am woken up to fieldz and more fieldz!
Miles to stretch

Most have
A farmer
A bull
Or many

Some barren
Many farmz
Brick houses

And towards the afternoon
You’ll see
Hay houses! (if there’s any nomenclature referring to stacks of hay built to look like they are houses…and no am not talking about hutz)

A farmer’s wife
A cycle
A truck
A khatara bus
A motor bike

The colour everywhere is mostly brown!

The earth
The fields

Ofcourz they transform into beautiful greenz in time
And while you are behind the horizontal iron bars
Disrupted in thought
To eat, stretch, read

But watching those myriad images
Almost like they are the only truth
As your mind gets accustomed

In it…You become a different you!

Different? How?

You grow personal!
You grow private!

In it… you grow to be near you!

You often fall in and out of love in those moments
And when the feelingz outgrow you
A tear trickles down through one side
And if you are sitting among perfect strangers
You don’t want to even brush them aside

You just want to watch the sunset!
Thinking of possibilities of life outside the only one you know… you live!
…
..
.

On the outside
You are static
And just like the physics phenomena
you are indeed static but u r static inside a moving body

You are static outside
but rambling inside
running
rushing
gushing
an amazing number of thoughtz!
of course you’ve never made no efforts to count them at all!

And in those pleasurable moments of personal and private pain
You…
I...
used to write!
my first scribblezz!
Should I say poetry?
Literature may not forgive me…quite literally!

So I ‘d call the scribbles
A lil’ galz poemz
Those that I’d proudly show to my daddy dear
And he’d hold them .. all I’d remember yearz later …is hiz beaming face!

So
While the father was proud
And the lil’ gal thought…yet again
‘All I wanna grow up to be is a writer’!

Sitting on those wheels
I knew I felt like Yeats
Or Keatz
Coz I could imagine
How they felt

For I used to realize
What they meant one of their category said
All art is but an imitation of nature
Or
Beauty as they’d describe it
Of the flowing streamz
Or the pebbles you could se through those clear waters
Or
Simply the smell of the fresh earth
The beautiful sunsetz
The blazing onez
The redz
The dawn
The dusk
The twilight

The journey!

(( And while the literature may not forgive me for the actual scribbles…
…the lil’ story sumhow makes it to become a part of a literature itself…))

Of course… but ofcourse… while my heart could go on…

Therez alwez a destination
A city
A face
The We
The people

I would alight
back and forth
to go
to come back

And so I shall
Time and again
I know

Yet

The journey inside…
Is the best thing that I enjoy!

Traversing through myself
Is just what I enjoy!

At freedom to think anything
At freedom to feel everything
To heal
To hurt

I so enjoy…
The train of thought!

Yes indeed… When the train moves, the brain rattles!