On this rather pedestrian Tuesday, I am thinking about trains. The undulating serpentine bodies of trains, their massive iron structures exhaling vapor. Gargantuan serpents I consider them, nosing their way up and down battered railways track—their heaving steel-bosoms the jorum of so many of our childhood memories. Remember the train rides we took as children, those family trips far away from home. How exited we were at the advent of the journey and how we fought with our siblings over the occupancy of window seats. Think of all the cities and towns, the meadows and strange little settlements we saw. I close my eyes and recall the kashfuls nodding their delicate white heads like happy onlookers bidding us a happy journey on board the train.
Oh, what fun it was to be a child, and the very idea of train is a ticket to those days gone by when the naive heart counted the minutes before a train ride would begin. And then, there were those meals on board the train, the luchis (deep-fried bread) and aloo dum my mother used to cook religiously before every trip. Under the stark reality of night in a metropolitan city I so wish to now transport my spirit back to those happy childhood days in company of parents on board a train on our way to some place away from home.