Railway Station: Halt Not a Visit

‘A Visit to the Railway Station’. Remember this phrase? Well, I can’t forget this. This used to be one of the most favorite essay topics of my English teacher then. I’ve one more reason not to forget this since it even got my cheeks pulled by her. Aaaaaahh…Memories!

The plot is same but not the circumstances. While that was the time when even without visiting the railway station, I could architect some imaginary stuff sitting amidst my friends, my classmates and be happy of my achievement.

New Delhi Railway Station: My new halt .Station Code: NDLS (I'm an ace in booking the tickets now, this is the proof!)

Once again I’m at the railway station. In real! Sitting in the waiting room but with no intentions of whiling away my time. When I peek out of the door, I can see a colorful train, Duronto Express, waiting for its guests, the passengers. I can hear the announcements of different trains in hoarse male and shrill female voices, respectively. I can see ladies of different sizes and strata coming in and going out of this big shelter for the waiting passengers but all of them have one thing in common.

Guess what? Each of them is a big chatterbox. Loquacious nature is inherent in the female species. It’s true! While I sit here and gaze at so much of commotion around me, there’s a storm of random thoughts inside me.

A flash of thought about my journey ahead. Suddenly another streak of thought about the day’s happenings at workplace. Enthusiasm of going & meeting my folks. Suddenly the phone rings and I’m asked about my well being & whereabouts by none other than my granny. It’s a daily ritual for her.

Once the call ends, I’m back into the shell of my thoughts with ear phones plugged in, listening to the favorite ghazal, ‘Hosh walon ko Khabar’ by ghazal maestro—Jagjeet Singh and pondering about my last journey that was undoubtedly much better than this one (Courtesy—A lost friend now). Then a sudden shift of thoughts. Thinking of miles to cover before I go to eternal sleep.

Feeling lonely and forlorn but a gleam in my eyes that’s not ready to douse for excitement to embrace my granny is of a bigger magnitude than this feeling of solitude. How fickle minded I’m?

'Chanakya' (Author: B.K. Chaturvedi)

3 hours more to go. A book lying by my side while I write this blog. This book has been my roommate, metro companion & even my bed partner for over one week now. It has to be since it’s based on the life of my ideal, my icon, the ace scholar ‘Chanakya’ by B.K. Chaturvedi.

While I had been hunting for this treasure of knowledge for over 4 months, finally after multiple requests from one of the famous book store owners of Noida, I could manage to get a copy of the same. While shuffling the pages of the book, I could spot some similarities between my role model & me. I could identify myself with the iconic persona of ‘Chanakya’, though my personality is worth a miniscule in front of him.

Not that he was a brahman and I too. But that he used to write his pithy experiences in the form of aphorisms and I do the same in the form of blogs, which I’m doing right now. There’s no bigger happiness in my life at this juncture than penning down my thoughts and connecting with my virtual friends, virtual critics, my READERS!

Ms. Raina in thinking mode (though my hair style is much better!)

Spending time yet again with myself, introspecting about my thought process and the transformations it has undergone by virtue of some recent events in the past. I repeat ‘Every Lesson Counts’. These changes are happening within me, not in my relationships with others, some precious relationships I have and some that I lost recently. Minor changes are constant but the major one–my love for all the relationships is CONSTANT and it will always be.

Suddenly after enough dose of introspection amidst so much of turbulence on the railway station, I have started deriving diabolic pleasure out of my pain—my feeling of loneliness here. The more I feel the pain of emptiness (due to absence of my family’s presence here), the more resolute I feel in my resolve to carve a niche of myself here on my own since that requires lots of guts, especially for a single woman in a metro.

On this positive note, I can suddenly feel my stomach raising the cry from inside ‘Don’t just keep feeding your readers with your blogs, pay some heed to me also!’ And I look at the watch, it’s 9:10 pm! It’s dinner time…Yippppieee!!

Welcome to Indian Railways canteen…it’s calling me!!

I’ll be back to my blogging desk soon.


6 responses to “Railway Station: Halt Not a Visit

  1. Hey it is so real tht i can co-relate to my past few journeys..u hav a magic and articulation in ur hand..keeping blogging. Al d Bst..:)
    We olso miss that lost friend:))


  2. Beautiful writeup and keep writing dear.


  3. hey raina,
    after reading ur blog, i feel I am there with you and watching everything Live..this is a strong characteristic of a good writer..


  4. so true even i felt that am too with you at the railway station and observing things around.life too is a journey , and every day teaches us something new.hope you had a nice journey.


  5. Very nice write-up…keep writing!!!


  6. once our teacher asked the class about heir aim in life.and it took me the whole 40 mins of her class to realise the futility of the effort as i tried to figure out wat i wished to grow up to…and wud it really matter if he whole world decided against it with a vengeance…..if the society collectively vetoed with conviction against the innoccus and harmless decisio of a little boy to dream ….dream of his desire to discover the depth…..the unknown forbidding depth of darkness through the dim glow of the headlight…..cocooned in the security of the driver’s cabin…oblivious and unconcerned …listening to the music on air…yeah i wanted to grow up to be a truck driver. But considering my then nil driving skills , i had a back up plan…..a plan that was even dearer than the former…..an alternative more appealing than the primary…..in its sheer ability to inspire inactivity…..nurture the so much detested habit of languour….something in its very nature anastheates all physical activity….waking up the lesser significant faculties of observation , absorption and analysis. iwanted to grow upto be a hawker at the cuttack railway station, reading through the the teeming millions ….being swept along with the unforgiving unsparing tide of time….as i speculated upon their helplessness as their life led them to their destination….and i wud again be cocooned in the security of my stall oblivious of the pandemonium outside and beyond…….


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