My journey

I have been lost in age and so I must have a beginning. But where is the point to begin with? There is only whirl of events with gust of senses about me.

Sometimes I am pinched between ghosts of the present and a non-existing blank future. The poignancy of the pain is the only touch of reality. There is no sense of a trace behind and no waiting space ahead in a future.

I have been in time where footprints are not laid in a visible path. It is only dust of moments. I am scattered in innumerable pieces from stars to worms where the infinity is lost. I was not born nor could I die in my plenty's procession and everything is here but nothing makes a presence.

I am constantly praying to that someone at the steer for a stop or for a taking off to a high unknown, which no imagination can conceive of, leaving below all the falsely luring horizons.

The horse rider of the night

Sometimes it takes time to decide on trivial matters because perhaps mere reflex of life becomes too numb to react. Otherwise there was no reason for me to sit on my chair staring at the dark sky even when the clock struck twelve. The world has gone into sleep and dreamt in the subliminal light of the street lamps. It had been drizzling since evening but the gust of strong wind was threatening an eternal night. So I had to get up. The light of my room, it appeared, was audacious within an engulfing night. I closed the doors of my balcony, put off the light and lay on my bed. The darkness of my room shivered as the lightening outside was as aggressive as the strong wind. But I lost all the ways to reach the shore of an unknown land which people call sleep. I was like a ship that lost direction in a stormy sea and was trying only to get afloat.

The wind was growing stronger and its frequent gusts on the window-panes evoked a mythical world never frequented by any living being. The clock struck one and then I heard the sound. It was approaching very fast-the sound of hoofs of a galloping horse. In seconds the horse stopped below my balcony. I could hear her neighing.

I got up and opened the doors of the balcony. I looked down on the street. There was a fierce lightening and in that flash of shocking light I saw the horse-rider. He looked up on my face and said "Hey, I'm here. Sleep, my dear, sleep the night. The dreams of the night are never dead."

"But, who are you?" I asked.

He laughed sitting on his restless horse and uttered in the lightning across the sky "You are my life and I am your time".

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One can miss many things in life or postpone them for a future. But one can not postpone his future. Sometimes we like to extend our present to the area of future. But this is foolish because there is nothing as such –which we call present.

So I can not miss my last train today. If I miss it today I'll miss my destination. There can not be two morrows with one destination.

There are not many people in the platform waiting for the last up 2115 train when I reach the station in the evening. It's a cold day. Some coolies or gang men have lit a fire outside the railing of the platform and are sitting around it for warmth. There is no air of hurriedness as is generally usual in other times in a railway platform.

This is the last train. But for people who will board it tomorrow on the way it will be for them the first train. Some will get down and some will alight. Some will reach for the first time while some will leave the place for good.

It's coming with its convincing head light.

It enters but like someone who is oblivious of his nobility. It has stopped by my side with its soft and personal hissing sound. I enter into my compartment keep my suitcase on the bunk and sit by the side of a window.

It has been signaled a minute ago. But the driver has, in the last minute, felt for a talk with the guard. Suddenly I feel it a breathing time. But why? I do not know. And I get down on the platform for a cup of tea as I feel it urgent. As I am seeking for a seller –the guard begins to sway his hand holding the green lantern. The train whistles and moves. Slowly I get in.

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