[Read Part I before...]
The steel bench at the platform had been warmer. Not really warm as the stiff chill in the air had decided not to relent or have mercy on a lone traveller. Yet watching the stray pup curling into its mother’s body for warmth seemed comforting. Now he was in constant motion. The train seemed to run along the rail lines as if it were feeding on it. It ran along like a greedy man moving on, aching for more, running along consuming the tracks, getting sucked into greed.
The train was on a mission. Running back and forth irrespective of the hour. He wondered what the engine would look like from the inside. Was it oiled regularly? Yes. Else how could it go on eating the tracks like it did? Unlike the smooth insides of the engine, his insides were dry. He had a body alright but of little skin and meat. Feelings and desires had deserted him. He was stuck somewhere between his past and present. The lines between his present and future had blurred long ago.
Only sleep was his mate now. Like a faithful dog, it came and went, in bouts. Sometimes deep, soundless, taking him into the oblivion, at other times, fragile and fragmented. Voices did not haunt him. Even if they tried hard, they could not make him concentrate.
With the first ray of sunlight came the rush of daily commuters. They came with stories, yelling, shouting and gossiping galore. Everyone spoke at once. But they couldn't touch him. The sound waves eluded him. They did not enter his ears and reach his brain. What was he concentrating on?
[Part III is in the process]