Windowed
She exchanged all the pleasantries with me, the entire journey. She was whispering to me the engineering and design of deceptive labyrinth called life, and in it all the civil society living a pipe-dream . Her constant “wooshing” suddenly lulled as the brakes clenched the steel. The horn of the locomotive engine cautioned the arrival of Itarsi. The platform was comparatively less crowded in comparison to the platform of the capital city. Hawkers and vendors shouting tea (my favorite beverage indeed) urged me to slip my hand into my pocket to get my tab, in order to savor its aroma and thus aesthetically please my taste buds. This is another reason why I like window seats. The only good thing about travelling alone is attention to detail. Never before was I amazed by the intensity of the nightly beauty, the fragrances of trees and mud, the weird sounds of creatures of night, all tranquilized me, made me forget the chafe feelings and soothed my chastised heart. The exacerbating...