Saturday, November 19, 2011

A train journey and thereafter

I caught the last train.
I was only lazy.
Who wants to leave home?

Who wanted to go back?

I took all the wrong steps.
I took all my time.
I boarded the train,
Struggling my way through the crowd.

She was sitting close by.
I had hardly seen her.
She was shining,
I was my usual.

We sat apart,
Who knew we would talk?
We were born different.
Who knew we would align? 

I remember, when she asked my name.

I remember, I looked out of the window,
Into the darkness past her.
I was my usual cynic.

I never knew of any light.
Until I saw her more.
I saw her a few days more.
I had written the only piece of paper.
That ever made sense to me.

I do not know,
How I slept those nights,
How I lived those days.
Why was it supposed to be?

Ever since, I have experienced life.
I have felt myself.
I have been closer to the reality.
Why did I ride the fateful train?

When there was nothing,
She was there for sometime.
Whenever I had asked myself,
I never got a different answer.

How can my mind colour things
To make them look beautiful ?
Or are they really so fascinating?
Why do I need to know?

One night, it was so cold.
I was shivering.
Only god could be so kind
To put the shawl on me.

I had given her a burning piece of paper,
I had lit a cigarette.
There was a fire in the ground.
Music filled the air.

I probably wont be able to listen
To that song for long now.
I can hardly know anything more sure,
Than that it was supposed to be.

We were separated by walls,
Before we could totally part.
But how I ran to the station,
How I could not look beyond anymore.

She was going back.
I literally ran to the station.
She was scribbling something,
She handed me over a burnt piece of paper.

Who knew that the fire would prolong?
Who knows if it still burns?
Dreams and illusions are as real as
The world that exists besides me.

I sat down with her on the platform,
She said nothing,
We tried to act,
Everything was destined to be over soon.

The train arrived,
It was running through me,
When it stopped at the station,
My heart stopped too.

She moved her suitcase,
She pulled her big handbag,
I was trying to say good-bye,
Her fingers slipped away from mine.
Never have I held a hand stronger.

How was I to know,
That it would make me unhinged?
When I utter my silent prayers,
Can He not intervene again?

Is an individual's faith any less than
The faith of a group?
Why was there a miracle that night?
Why can't it repeat itself tonight?

I have so outgrown myself,
I have become so immersed.
Why do I have to see through the pain?
Why do I have to deal with causality?

Why can't the Architect show me two doors?
Am I so blinded by falsities?
Am I so less ?
I can't see a different culmination.
Why can't the veil be removed again?

Will she come back with Morpheus,
Looking for me?
Will she find the Train-man?
Will she take the trouble?

Everything can't have a causality.
There must be scope for irrationality.
Everything can't be added up.
There must be scope for generosity.

Actions are hardly the projections of human thoughts.
Can a man not succumb to externalities?
Can one journey define a man's life forever?

I immerse myself tonight in prayer.
In the court of Almighty.
In gratitude and pleasure.
A weak bliss and lot of devotion.

My wants are so ruthless,
Feels bad to know they originate from me.
Yet, I ask, if there is a bigger reality?
Is there a bigger reality than
When all that matters is a simple smile from her.

My sins are deep.
My wishes many.
I am as human as I could be.
Why can't she be less divine?