Looking from the windows of moving trains is an experience in itself. Moving tree, plants, electric and telephone poles, clouds, rail tracks, stations, houses, buildings, and crops of various hues and sizes really make one’s life dynamic, particularly one’s mind.
A lot of memories, ideas and thoughts come across in prospect and retrospect. Despite being inside the train, we feel ourselves a part of the outer world, very close to nature.
Whenever I find an opportunity to travel by train, I pursue this hobby of staring outside from my glass window, and of star gazing during night hours. Sometimes I like to jot down peculiar ideas, that like cool breezes throw themselves into my mind giving enough emotive food.
I’m sure that poets may feel much more creative if they pen down their lyrics in a moving train. Though it may not be easy to use a pen in a moving train, the strokes of pen here and there may result in some interesting hues and angles to one’s thoughts.
But what goes inside the train generates other kinds of creativity. Beggars begging in the name of religion or helplessness, artists showing skills of singing or playing tunes on flute and other musical instruments, pickpockets and cheats inventing and experimenting ways to find their victims, vendors selling tea and snacks, and so on.
New passengers force themselves inside the compartment, while sitting passengers obstruct their ways by hook or by crook. Some intelligent and sophisticated passengers of second sleeper class devise ways to get accommodated in AC coaches by finding friends or acquaintances in those coaches, or just moving around to save themselves from the agony of the mainstream passengers.
Trains play a very important role in joining every nook and corner of the country. They unite millions of hearts. The journey by a train not only helps us reach the places of destination, but also gives an opportunity to meet different kinds of people and to understand their languages, cultures and rich heritage. In any compartment of a train, one may come across a mini-India.
While travelling in a general compartment during a chilly night, I saw a chap boarding the train at a station near Varanasi, while others inside were trying to stop him. Somehow he managed his entry, and finding no seat in the compartment made a room for himself on the floor and started dozing off.
As he had no woollens or blanket, he started shivering, and to my utter surprise, I saw the same fellows, who were not allowing him to enter the compartment a few minutes back, sharing their own blankets and seats with him.
This sort of compassion should be the spirit of not only a train journey, but also of the life journey.