Through a train window.
( A fictional short story )
Photograph by Yash Vyas
A sudden jerk forced the passengers upright. The wail of a young infant, a few coughs here and there and a momentary break in conversation characterised the soundscape of the train compartment. The passengers re-adjusted themselves in an attempt to re-encounter the positions of lazy comfort that their bodies had earlier discovered. The old lady, frustrated with the abrupt stillness that took over the train journey, moved her gaze to the window by her side. With a deep sigh, searching for spaces between the dirt-ridden railings, her eyes peered out.
Thirsty land, shreds of yellow grass and shrivelled shrubs, a lone cow standing purposelessly, a small black bird perched on its back as if it were a charioteer, and a piercing blue sky were captured by the frame of the window. To the old lady, the land – despite its dearth – somehow held a promise of new life. The promise awakened her spirit and her senses began to absorb again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, with a forgiving expression that seemed almost appreciative of the stale smell of the train compartment.
The lone skinny cow, now facing the train, chewed lazily and stared blankly at the woman. She stared back, finding a sense of peace in the unassuming gaze of the animal. Her eyes began to water, not because of the rush of emotions that she was feeling but because of the dust that swayed into the train with the harsh hot winds of the area. She wiped her face, using medicated eye drops to replenish the moisture that was taken from her eyes. In the few seconds that it took her to do so, the scene outside was no longer the same. There was no cow, no black bird charioteer, and the blue sky wasn’t clear anymore. All that was left was an expanse of land and her imagination. Betrayed by change, she turned away.
mohini
