As one mystery unfolds another resurrects and this is how the drama
of life keeps on amazing us with its twists and turns. Its already the
dusk, the night approaching and so as the train, towards its
destination, running, galloping, smearing its tiny little existence over
the iron tracks of irony mocking at its own parallelism.
The clouds are all over the sky now, droplets of water are forming and gliding over one side of the haze window glasses. Eyes peeping through, towards the approaching murky, cloudy night, are somehow delighted by the contrast with the nonchalance of the inside. Moving and trickling little fingers of innocence all over the window glasses writing some abstract story of the two sides of the glass, so close yet so far, so much in touch yet so different. With time, as the night approaches, as the clouds dense up, as the lights lit up all along the train, the differences keep on increasing, diverging in volume as the night gets more and more darker. The peeping eyes are slowly stepping into the trap of drowsiness, ignoring the diverging contrast of the two sides of the window glass. The abstract scribblings slowly evaporates, the lights slowly gets turned off, and slowly but steadily the differences start getting wiped out. As the morning approaches, the sunshine kisses the other side of the glass, the warmth spreads over the whole glass, the whole window, the whole train, the whole drama of life.
The train stops, the peeping eyes of the inside get off the train and walk away, what remain are the two sides of the window, with each other, making each other feel their existence, differences, togetherness, getting ready for another hell of a journey of differences.
The clouds are all over the sky now, droplets of water are forming and gliding over one side of the haze window glasses. Eyes peeping through, towards the approaching murky, cloudy night, are somehow delighted by the contrast with the nonchalance of the inside. Moving and trickling little fingers of innocence all over the window glasses writing some abstract story of the two sides of the glass, so close yet so far, so much in touch yet so different. With time, as the night approaches, as the clouds dense up, as the lights lit up all along the train, the differences keep on increasing, diverging in volume as the night gets more and more darker. The peeping eyes are slowly stepping into the trap of drowsiness, ignoring the diverging contrast of the two sides of the window glass. The abstract scribblings slowly evaporates, the lights slowly gets turned off, and slowly but steadily the differences start getting wiped out. As the morning approaches, the sunshine kisses the other side of the glass, the warmth spreads over the whole glass, the whole window, the whole train, the whole drama of life.
The train stops, the peeping eyes of the inside get off the train and walk away, what remain are the two sides of the window, with each other, making each other feel their existence, differences, togetherness, getting ready for another hell of a journey of differences.
