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The railway station filled with clamor
at times dons an unceasingly grim façade.
Most of the times we are dumbstruck-
at the architectural feat that railways signify.
Although stations are eloquent symbols
of the city or town in which they pulsate
peaking inside one realizes
grass is not always greener on the other side.
Walking down the impoverished platform,
I see many-a-congealing sight
hitting hard at my mental tracks;
I experience acerbic semaphores.
Reaching the junction of destinies,
I enter the tunnel of the dark world;
I am traumatized to witness,
a continuous run of helplessly bereft beggars,
abandoned elders with dilapidated hearts,
threadbare clad children, hope viciously flirting with their eyes,
virtually dead commuters taking shortcuts, heedless to warnings,
pugnacious sweepers taking siesta, their brooms as headrest,
onerous porters dragging tired feet to fill their empty stomachs.
On one hand the station signifies a mosaic of destiny,
on the other direst cross section of humanity.
Reflecting on their lives offers me a passage to transformation
in these constant push-pull forces of existence,
these strangulated souls never ever rail,
hence they reach their destination without fail.
Copyright © ®2008, Chitra G. Lele. All rights reserved
Chitra Lele
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