Mystery Poem by Auro Bhattacharya

I still remember the day as fresh as today.
I was waiting on the railway platform
to board a train to Howrah,
from Seoragachi Station
in a remote place somewhere in Bengal.

Full of mist and cool winter breeze
engulfing me from all sides
in this deserted Rly Stn,
very few passengers around
at 6PM evening.

An old baldy man in his white apparels
holding a black umbrella in his left hand
and a black leather bag
in his right hand wearing a black sandal,
stood by my side & asked if I am waiting
to catch the train to Howrah!
I nodded in yes while he asked
“if I am not from this place.”
I nodded in Yes I am not from here
but from a faraway place..
I came here to visit my ancestral place
after 20 years; he chatted a few minutes
when I saw the train entering..
from the corner of the platform.

I got readied and the engine was just now
in front of me …
The old man suddenly jumped on the track
and the engine ran over him.
I am shocked..
People rushed here and pulled the man out
when the train stopped fully..
A headless corpse still the body shivering..

I didn’t take the train but accompanied
the Railway police as an eye-witness.
It was indeed a very sad & horrible moment
for me while writing the FIR.

2 hrs later, the next local train to Howrah…
empty railway station in this winter time.
Chilled breeze penetrating thru my bones
Dim light at station; Mind is puzzled
and confused..
however in extremely alert state.
Boarded the local train;
I am alone in the poorly lighted empty
Compartment, sat on the window side
and thinking what a sad day it was.
Heavy head & shivering in chilly wind;
the train started while I was looking outside
into the moonless dark night beyond window
and my mind is not working anymore.

A man came and sat beside me..
And asked me “if I am not from this place.”
The voice was known & heard a few hours before
I looked at him and fainted instantly
it was the same old man
“ in his white apparels
holding a black umbrella in his left hand
and a black leather bag
in his right hand wearing a black sandal”
smiling at me..

I am back in my sense in the mid of a crowd
at Howrah Station.
Rushed to a public phone- booth to call
Seoragachi Station- master, he confirmed
once again; the old man had died on the spot.