And When You Get The Choice To Sit It Out Or Dance...

During late evenings, when the number of people in the train is less, I indulge in the luxury of standing near the doorway, refusing myself the indolence that a seat has to offer. Hands holding the bar carelessly, backpack in front so that my back can rest on the wall comfortably, I read the breeze.

Like the touch of a lover, the wind holds my face with a resounding urgency that makes me close my eyes, when a train is approaching in the opposite direction. I move inward unconsciously, my ears taking in the urgent sound of the other train. At times like these, a moment suspended in air, I feel as though I have all the time in the world. My mind is alive, as my eyes take in the full moon that moves along with me, a companion, a constant reminder of evenings by the seashore, long lone walks on forgotten campus lanes, music and fleeting thoughts. Soon these moments become important by themselves. They detach themselves from the nostalgia that freezes them. The context gains more significance. Memories are filtered away. My feet can feel the reverberations of the train as I tighten my fingers holding the bar. The other hand carelessly brushes away dishevelled hair from the eyes. Twenty minute battery recharge.
Another station. Yet another point of arrival. People alighting, more getting in. I move on, along with the train. Along with life.