Monday, January 26, 2015
Thought Snippets #01: Dead, Spoken Words
Yet the only words that manage to escape me are words like okay, sorry, It’s alright.
Dead, paralyzed words, with the occasional exceptions of long sighs.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Railfan
From an early age, train had been a joyous means of transport. Back in those days, my whole family would take this fantastic ride to my grandparent’s house to celebrate the holidays. That was a long time ago. I remember wondering why people take the train so much, all you can see through the window are the same old boring landscapes. I remember the benches facing each other in sets of four and wondering why on earth would they do that. I remember the plates of two different compartments meeting and sliding on top of each other as the train moved, I remember being so afraid of them. I would not dare cross that without my father.
Little did I know, one day I’ll be absolutely obsessed with all these things.
As time went on, I grew up, yet the trains remained pretty much the same. Since I started my undergrad studies in Khulna, which is a seven hour train journey from my hometown Rajshahi, the train has been a trusted companion.
It’s amazing how much space a mundane vehicle can occupy in your heart. I don’t know if it’s my severe homesickness or my inability to cope well with Khulna, but, for some reasons I had clinged onto this sure mean of transport. In between all the pressure you face in your undergrad life, the train was just one of those things I could always count on, always ready to take me home. And because of my homesickness, I made A LOT of train journeys.
Slowly, the train became my getaway. Apart from taking me home, which was for me the happiest and most exciting thing, the seven hours it took in each journey became my most personal time, my zen, my bliss. I would get a ticket beside a window, look out and get lost in my thoughts. It’s beautiful, getting lost in your own thoughts. I probably got to know myself better in these few hours than I ever did anywhere else.
The raw friction between the rails and the wheels, both of which are made of iron has become my favorite lullaby. It has gotten to a point where I prefer this sound than the music in my phone. The same old noises, yet each time they feel completely new and unique.
The usual scenaries that bored me as a child are now my favorite views. The endless lush green underneath a vivid blue, accompanied by cotton clouds in fall and rains in monsoon. This is a picture that has been painted countless times by poets and writers of these lands, yet however cliché they may sound, the beauty never ceases to amaze. Timeless landscape in the truest sense. At dusk and dawn, a golden aura outlines everything. At night, stars and fireflies take part in a breathtaking light show. Stars so bright and fireflies so many you can’t tell them apart.
How could anyone tire of this?
I love plates that go on top of each other and move independently. Sometimes I put each foot on each of the plates and watch in childish wonder as the train makes me dance. I can’t help but smile.
I love the seats in sets of four or six facing each other. I can see people going by their usual journey, some of them too busy to enjoy this marvelous ride.
I love how train jerks a little every time when it crosses a fouling mark. I love how I can see the whole train when it takes a massive turn.
I love the little kids that wave the train goodbye.
I love the hawkers selling unhygienic food, I love the overpriced tea, I love all the cute stations.
I love Pakshi and its elevated railway, the Hardinge Bridge.
I know why Sundarpur(সুন্দরপুর) is named such.
I love Ishwardi station and its hustle and bustle.
I am madly in love with Trains.
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| arani |
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| inside a compartment |
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| bliss over the horizon |
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| topsy turvy |
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Labels:
bangladesh railway,
journey,
life,
railfan,
reflections,
thoughts,
train,
wonderful
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