Saturday, August 27, 2011

When the blue caterpillar moved.

My earliest memory of travelling in a train would be the annual vacations to Hyderabad and Vizag. I've been going there since forever, and the mere reflections of them, make me feel happy and child-like, and slightly, for some unknown reason, obscure. I am assuming, based on carefully woven conversations, that I was quite the spirited kid, who would never settle down. Never mind the fact, that I initially imagined the train to be a blue caterpillar, on the move.
Yes, I think it was the seats. Yes, I indeed loved them the most about the journey, and the window, and the many entertaining images on the way, that this country successfully presented. Also, prior to the journey, I'd coax my father to buy me a lot of chocolates for the ride, which, obviously never lasted for more than a couple of hours. The sugar intake played an important role in my hyperactivity in the train. But then, there are these blurred images that you interacted with during those journeys. They present no emotion, no melancholy whatsoever, but these blurred images present an aspect of your past, that you cannot go back to.
And somewhere in the distance, trains evoke a small story in my head today.

She called out to Nina, who ran to her balcony, to catch the glimpse of the afternoon train scurrying by.
"Its high time you got your studies wrapped up Nina, the trains would come and go", so said the ignoramus.
"Lauren, have you even thought about the people who traveled in those trains, covering endless regions. Do you think that they think about us, as they pass these landscapes?"
"Nina, I haven't thought about all of that. But then there are these tales of yore that my senses have been often subjected to. Stories often arise out of simple journeys. The journeys, would not be categorically such, but more in the metaphorical sense. Each relationship is a journey in the true sense of the word. The physical presence of each other, would just be an additional frosting. As you stand here, wondering of those very mystical faces, you might actually end up knowing one of them someday. And he might grow to be very special to you. And during one of the many casual conversations that you'd share, he'd mention he's been through this part of the country, and then, you'd have a common thread to reflect and laugh about."
Suddenly, she didn't seem so ignorant any more. 


Ananya said...

nostalgia..beautiful post :)

Eon Heath said...

Hey, Hi

the way u have woven it is beautiful....i like ur thoguht process, u present things in a unique way, that in itself makes the whole read so appealing..

i liked the end...the common thread thingy...could so relate to it..


Blasphemous Aesthete said...

A big pretext to a short and sweet classic story. Though I still see two different stories in both of the paras.

Wonderful story, or stories rather.

Blasphemous Aesthete

aakash said...

you write divine meher..

I have thought of the same notion but while sitting on the window of a train... if I'll ever see these faces again.. life as it slowly unfolds as we sneak in from inside..

train rides make me pensive often :)