 |
| Srijoni Ghosh |
I stare into the even black gaps between the sleepers
Purple rays obliquely fall over them,
Heralding the arrival of
The Evening Train.
The commotion around pauses magically.
A sharp melodramatic cry,-
A slight tremor in the stones,-
And then it comes rushing, bringing with it a metallic uproar.
My restless eyes hurriedly wander about
Scrutinizing every compartment-
I spot him in the last one, standing in amaranthine glory,
An exuberant presence against the grey of the carriage,
Like a beam of sunshine emerging from rows of dark clouds.
The wind makes his tie fly, eyes squinting, hair muffled,
I stand there - a lightning struck statue
As he becomes smaller & smaller & finally fades into the mauve sky.
The grey of the carriage morphs into a deep black point far, far away.
A breeze mixed with his perfume disturbs my reverie
And breathes life into the scenery.
The barred gate stands up once more, making way for the crowds.
And all there's left in front of me now is a black velvety night
But I stand still,
Waiting by the crossing,
Waiting for the Evening Train.
***
