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Seat Quantity 39

Trees, Green, Blue skies in between. Paddy fields bereft of paddy, Cattle few and much in between. Bushes, Green, Blue skies in between.

The extended horn sounded like a primeval beast crying out for assist. The practice swayed, stuttered and moved along. Hundreds of our bodies swayed and stuttered too. So many people, so many lives, desires, problems, pains, fears. What were all of them fascinated by? The old man with the light green shirt and starched dhoti, his drained eyes calling out from beneath these horn rimmed glasses, what might he be considering? Along with his index finger under his nose and his thumb on his chin, the sunlight glimmering of his gold colored watch. He sighed. What had been the problems he hid behind those drained eyes? Was he considering of his house? His wife? His kids? Or did he even have those luxuries (or demons, to each his own). Who were his kin? What were the circumstances that induced him to be right here, hanging on in a crowded train with a black leather purse clutched in his hand?

A bead of sweat careened off his balding head, cascading over the wrinkles on his forehead. How outdated was he? Was he as outdated as he appeared or like an entire generation around him, was he too ageing before his time? Have been his feet restless, inside these faux black leather-based shoes with ‘citymen’ written alongside the side? A shade of anxiousness glimmered throughout his weather-worn face and disappeared, or did it? Was the train getting late? Would somebody be waiting? Was there anyone to fret about him being late? Or was he just wanting ahead to achieve house, take a sizzling bath and lie down on his cot?
He seemed out the window, he wasn’t observing nor did he look listless. You possibly can inform he was pondering of something however he was nonetheless present there in mind and physique. He had the air of a confident man, who could by no means develop into overly passionate. He sat on seat number 39 on the first row from the door in the course of the third compartment from the engine.

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<p>He immediately gets up with not even a change in his expression. At the same time as he strikes in direction of the door, the prepare slows down. The platform seems. Scores of people dot the railway station. And he’s considered one of them, transferring forward, together with his sight unwavering in front of him. He quickly passes out of view. I stare at the yellow board with black letters, “TANUR”. The horn sounds once more, with a jerk the practice moves again.</p>
<p><h2>I ponder if I’ll ever see him once more. I’m wondering if I’ll ask him his identify if I do see him once more.</h2>
<p>The practice gathers speed. Trees, Green, Blue skies in between.</p></p>
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