Skip to main content

Into the unknown Part III

[Read Part I and II]

What was he concentrating on? The people around him – he had no interest in them. The hustle-bustle inside the compartment did not perturb him. It was incredible how a tiny, innocuous roach caught his attention.

How had it got in there? Without anyone squashing it with just one stomp of their foot? How could it scurry across without anyone noticing it or some woman shrieking? The roach was near someone’s shoes now and then on the leg of the seat. Slowly climbing up, hoping not to be seen; its antennas swinging awry in all directions. He wondered how it smelt its way to a scrap of food or garbage. It slowly climbed on the window pane. Everything went dark. The train was passing through a tunnel.

It was a long tunnel. As the train zoomed past, the small rays of the distant moonlight obstructed by the bars, cast an angular shadow on the roach. It remained still, perched on the window pane as the train continued to move at a subliminal speed.
It took a moment for the flickering lights in the compartment to come alive. It moved then, scurrying down quickly near the end of the seat. It was trying to squeeze itself into the cracked crevices in the aluminium of the compartment.

Could he too disappear in the same into an unknown crevice? No. Life was not so giving. The train moved on. The passengers got off, new ones came in, and they got off too. But he sat there. He did not know his destination. He was relieved that he had no goal anymore. As he looked out, the sky above looked luminous with stars. And then the train took off rising above the ground unto the stars.
Far away the once empty platform was buzzing with activity. The lone stranger sitting on the steel bench had died. He had no information on him. Nobody knew him. Only the stray pup and its mother stood near his body for a while and left.

Comments

  1. Awesome template!!! Awesome post!

    Loved every moment of the man's thoughts..

    Waiting to read this in the short story book you getting published. Have u told others about it yet? ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. poignant....However, so many quetions in my mind...Is it a fiction or what? It was you who was obeserving him so deeply and closely?

    ReplyDelete
  3. @ Himanshu

    Thank you.

    @ Human Observer

    It is fiction as I have mentioned it. The observation is a third person's view. It could be anyone.

    To get a better understanding read Part II if you haven't.
    Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Excellent! I loved it!!

    The end, or more to come?

    ReplyDelete
  5. @ Iggy

    There will be more... but it is the end for the lone stranger.

    ReplyDelete
  6. much wished you converged it in a full story..

    and yeah damn good template..

    ReplyDelete
  7. @ Dreamcatcher

    Thank you! But I guess I couldn't carry on with it for now!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Hey.
    the flow of the story and the reflections of man were pretty good. However I see a minor problem in the timeline.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

GO ahead, say it out loud!

Popular posts from this blog

Mind vs the heart

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Picture courtesy: Google. Only for representation purpose.
Standing on the highway, Roads leading both ways to somewhere, I stand still and wonder, Where do I belong?
The soothing lullabies of the green mist fairies call.  With promises to wrap me in the cool calm fog, Holding me in wet, gentle caresses, lulling the storm within. 
The call of the shrill, salt-laden sea sirens,  from the sun-baked rocks, Pull me back To join them as they make me one, in the fathomless abyss of wonders unseen. 
I lament my fragile being,  Born with one heart, not two, Torn between the ebb and flow of waves, And earthy scents in muddy dew. 
Both offer me refuge,  Cloaking me whole in their embrace, Dust to dust, flesh to flesh and soul to soul. 
In this battle between the mind and the heart, The heart but loses steam,  Leaving me stranded on a path to nowhere, never to be seen. 
My mind has been wrought with depression and all things crappy. This is a result of binge-watching a…

#Sorry not sorry

I feel sorry for ‘Sorry’ – such an abused term. When you come to think of it, it is just a word, right? It holds significance in some instance and at times, it is a mere excuse. But we humans absolutely love it as an excuse, don’t we? I use this term a lot; I mean a lot! I think of myself as a kind being, and hence, if I happen to push or ignore (deliberate), I say ‘sorry’. I say sorry for things that may not need a ‘sorry’. I say ‘sorry’ to people I am not really feeling sorry for (don’t read this the wrong way). In short, I say ‘sorry’ a lot like I have already admitted. It is my ticket to moving on, a ticket to redeem myself for mistakes and sometimes, tinged with slight sadness (maybe).


But is ‘Sorry’ the right word? Mean, is it even appropriate? Like they say, first you commit the murder and then say sorry. What is the point of it? I would say nothing. Sorry – the term originated from the West Germanic term Sore that evolved to Sarig, meaning pained or distressed. It is also known…

I Wonder What Ants do on Rainy Days…

Source: Google Images
On days when the sun has abandoned us, hiding behind the grey, moody clouds. Do they sit inside their hills and wonder out loud? Do they stare outside at the rain, measuring the raindrops, letting thoughts splotch all over? Does the earthy petrichor take them down the memory lane? Or are they content with what nature has to offer? It is a part of their lives, isn’t it? They dredge up foods daily, diligently build their hills, even if it is to serve their queen, only to enjoy it on days like this, no? Maybe they do take stock of things, of their bearings. They ought to sleep it off, take a day to rest or do they lament on the lost time?
Unlike me.
When I gaze out, a gazillion thoughts fly by; some worthy of the pen, some so disturbing that I often question my sanity. I like the grey skies though. They seem like textured canvases waiting for me to scribble something. The lazy raindrops wetting the streets below and casting a temporary stain on window ledges bring a…