TRAIN OF THOUGHTS

The wave of the green flag, a burst of the siren and the train started to move from the platform. A sea of people flowed towards the exit, some calm, some laughing and some plainly relieved that the moment was over. Goodbye, sometimes the most difficult word to say. A few women were crying apparently for the loved ones who were going and will not be coming back for a long time. What was a noisy place filled with voices, laughter, children crying and hawker's calls was now as silent as a graveyard. She stood still, watching what was left of the cloud of smoke that the train had left. A cloud of smoke, some tears and few memories were all that were left.

Zikr-e-shama aur shabnami aankhon ka wajood,

Ab iske siwa zindagi mein kuch na raha,

Har shab tera tasavvur jagaata hai mujhe,

Yun tera mujhse koi vaasta na raha. 

He had arrived just ten days back bringing along with him, a childish energy, a tremendous force of faith and most of all the sound of laughter. It was funny how he could laugh so loud, unabashed. Before him, the place had only seen her tense, worried sometimes red eyed. She had met him once before and that too was on a formal note. He had struck her to be one of those moody alcoholics not caring about what people thought about him and not careful about how he lived. Not worth a second look, was what she had thought then. Well, since then she was aware how bad she was at judging people. The past ten days she had been trying to decipher how he could manage to know what was the right thing to say and do for her and how can a person be so attentive to the needs of a girl he has only known for a few days. So much was left unsaid by his silent gaze, which he forgot to hide sometimes. He never said a word what he felt for her, but his voice became hoarse when he asked the driver to be careful while driving her back from the station. It was all over. He came, he smiled, he left. She wondered if life would ever be the same without him again.

Maine kuch na poochha, woh kuch na bola, phir bhi ek jawaab ka intezaar karta raha hun main.

Meri aankhen aaina hain mera, aankhon se baaten karta raha hun main.

He sat quietly gazing out of the window from his seat in the train. The sounds of the journey drowned in the chaos that he experienced inside him. He closed his eyes, now red with the irritation from the wind. They would have been red anyways. He had an allergy to pollen and strands of cut grain. He would never confess that it was tears this time. He had gone on a holiday, thinking that he would meet her and get to know more about her. Would be good to have a friend like her, he had thought. He had been thinking about her since he had met one year back. Attempts to talk to her had been in vain. She did not talk to strangers, especially who drank openly on roadside benches. She always appeared silent, disturbed and sad, even though she had the loveliest of smiles. Coming to her town told her why. In the past ten days, he had seen her in all her moods. He wanted her to be happy. Just as he told everyone he met. "I want you to be happy". They could never understand how he stayed always smiling, encouraging, giving the right advice and being the perfect guide, even if it meant guiding the person away from him. He hoped they would carry on living a true life on their own, happy and satisfied. He went, he loved, he left.

Phir kisi raahguzar par shaayad,

Ham kabhi mil saken, magar, shaayad.

                                                  (Ahmed Faraz)

Only in times like these, on a moving train, or sometimes at the airport, did he take off his mask to wipe the tears from his face, speck of dirt in his eyes he would say, laugh and move on. The desire to stay at a place, to be true to one  person, to belong to her, to live life as normal human being, attached, with a family and kids, was always very strong. He knew it was not what he was sent for. Even then, it had been very difficult to convince himself this time.

Konpalen phir phoot aayin shaakh per, kehna usey,

Vo na samjha hai na samjhega magar, kehna usey.

                                                       (Farhat Shahzad)