It has been 4 long hours, in this train journey now from one place to another, as my carriage keeps shaking to and fro which I know only as I say it now, for mind and body gets used to something that keeps happening continuously. Only a steady travel would bother me now, I am comfortable with the jerks. Pretty amazed with the way I find so many people sharing a journey with me here. I don’t know any of them, but still everyone is hinged to the hopes of reaching their places just the way I am. That very knowledge creates a sense of belonging. The collective mob I should say when I talk about society, seeking security in being together. It is always these ideas of people together with a common notion that make us believe this or that is the right thing to do. Over centuries we have been preached, practiced and promoted with the very idea that what is wrong and what is right. It is already in place and we just have to move along with it. We can’t do much about it. Just like this train journey as I am guided through mechanically and i accept it wholly. I can indeed jump off the train if I don’t like being a part of it, but then I have to face pain as the consequence. No one loves pain, especially a volunteered pain. We all love pleasure and we volunteer so much for it because it makes us happy. How about volunteering for pain?

In a train, compartments are confined with limited space to every passenger. Seated, fixed and watched, they show the way space is distributed. Space when limited brings the parts of us together and shows us what we can do. There is not much of adventure in it. An unlimited space, like in love, will always gift us with anxiety, freedom, danger and desires. It shows what we want to do. That is where the real interest of life lies, to live in an open space rather than a defined space. Self and ego are two things that I am reminded of when I come to this point of our talk. To define simply, self is the way we are in our bathroom everyday; in front of the mirror facing our real self in a sound silence. We can make faces, sing or dance. We are free to do anything we wish. We are ourselves then. Whereas ego is when you fail to stay yourself if you come to know someone, even a child, is looking through the key hole of the door. You act controlled. The external world comes into play here. You are concerned about what they would think, or how we should make them think. This is ego, a selfless and a selfish part of us. All we do is decorate this and hide the self under a shelf of so called sanity. Many a time to me, insanity seems attractive than sanity for the amount of freedom it offers to do anything you wish.

Sitting by the side of the window, I was trying to drink the sight of the trees faster than the passenger in front. We both looked at trees that passed fast in the back side as the train surged forward. I didn’t see him doing it, but I know he did watch too all those trees, buildings and open lands moving back swiftly. Quite a scene it is to see things moving back. Real life doesn’t move back, except for the scars that show how real past is and how important they are to live a life worth by itself. Points of purpose are determined by the number of scars held in content. You can neither count them nor name them, but you always remember them. Hard to forget are these points of purpose that shaped you up as a being other than just being seen as a sexual being- male or female.

My neck pained, but I preferred to stay with it and get the pleasure of observing through the window. Volunteering for pain? I already asked this question, and did not bother much to answer because I didn’t feel like answering then. But now I feel like. The interesting part is, to ask a question and to answer it by ourselves is nothing but a lunatic. Yes, if you look keen, a lunatic is a person who is completely satisfied with his self and does not need any one to converse or participate with him. He has no ego. He never cares to what we may say or think about him. He is happy to talk to himself, ask questions and answer himself. A world of his own, where the external things only form an illusion, he is filled with imagination. To be devoid of facts is to be prepared to imagine. I imagine how fast this train is moving, as a matter of surprise, not fact.

Stations come, people leave, new people board, and the train keeps moving. Things keep changing. Lost in transition are so many things that we fail to see as we pass by with speed. Like a butterfly that could have waved its colors or a little boy who would have dropped his red ball, things keep happening everywhere and we manage to miss them on account of the thing we are busy seeing then. Undoubtedly, we only live a fraction of what life offers to us and we dwell in it. It is perfectly fine to miss something and gain another thing. Trees, buildings, barren lands, people, paths and the sunlight: I am enjoying my chance to observe whatever that comes on my way now as the world outside might be busy inventing lies and technology to make the world a better place.

To lose time outside is to gain space inside. A lot to talk, a lot to think and a lot to wonder; whatever it is, just like the train, life moves on. I hear the wheels screeching by the brakes applied and the people gossiping about reaching delayed. My station has come, let me grab my luggage. Gravity wins as I step down from the train and manage to catch hold of the bag that slipped down and eventually took a tumble on the floor. Until next time, I will miss this train journey, as I now look back at the long train that carried my hopes and conversations alive down the lane.