The grayish mist had clouded the spooky train heading towards south. Particularly, no evident reason the whistles had to prevail upon murky ambiance of a dejected place like this –all empty places filled up to the brim with steaming streaks of quietude. He on his armchair was swinging back and forth. Expressionless face, concocting a tale, was veiled within clasps of hollering silence.
With no time the train came marching in the room and he kept gazing the clock he had already been. The whistle broke the ice and he saw the grays changing into crimson hues. Where do we do after demise? Would these buds ever relinquish in front of the whips lashing them first to grow and then to grow old and weary? I wish, I could seize this decreasing growth –and cease it at once. Don’t you wish so?
Again the whistles of train plunged in the stillness and moved towards south. He had no change in his emotionless sentiments. The pale visage was replenished with virile delights as those candles were lighted with joy, petals were moistened with sparkling dews and the entire surrounding echoed with chuckles. Why do these glows are put to an end when that’s just a beginning of brightness ? I thought this glow is gregarious and is going to stay and blush with me, but on the contrary it ephemeral and it just brushed past.
The train intruded with a high pitched whistle and his chair kept moving back and forth with its constant speed. And he entered a huge cenotaph –he knew the bodies were exhumed. In a row he witnessed many people saying so many things simultaneously. He remained ignorant of the fact whether they were muted or he were dumb to their words. He hollered at them, his yelling, seemingly, was futile, but they kept moving their lips. Now their lips were cracked and icy. Hey! Why your lips are frosted? Hey! I can see you talking but why these blues are being adhere to your skin? Why this frost is clinging to you so deeply to separate? Answer me! At once all of them started laughing at him. He pressed hard his ears closed and ran away.
Off the beaten tracks never seemed this handy as they were that day. His legs sporadically announced not to carry him. I was never limping. I want to reach my destination but can’t. would you mind to answer me? He asked the cactus he saw whilst moving amid this sandy place. No reply. Where this light is coming from? Why does not this train let me hear anything else? Why I keep on resting on the armchair? Answer me! Answer me!
Suddenly the cactus started laughing and sang to him.
Stone you, stoned you’d be
Rain on you, lest you should drench
In the waters you’d be
Calm you’re, calm you’d be
Rain on you, buried in your stench
In the sands you’d be
I mislead you and you’d be
I mislead you and you’d be
And he was stoned and never caught his train.
The train kept whistling though.
Written By T.S
