The Train.
------------
a long, tiresome one, the trip.
train; sometimes fearless,
sometimes dragging like a wounded animal.
my country outside the window was beautiful,
a slow calm Chilka lake,
a fierce Ganga,
but, sometimes, the scorching heat.
no shutter could save.
On both trips,
some sexually frustrated Indian Army men were common.
were these men already like that
or army-life made them so...
i dont understand.
anyways.
both times, they were fascinated about my breasts
and tried to touch them when i was sleeping.
they thought they were cats drinking milk in the night
and hoped no one will catch them...
the way they were sulking..
Guahati
---------
And there was Indian Army around
like filth.
vehicles, people, stares..
seemed like a war.
May be there is.
but then, but then.
i was around on a cycle almost alone at 9'o'clock in the night
there wasn't any MAN trying to tell me
its not safe.
there were not boys following me.
somehow, safer than my own GOD'S OWN COUNTRY.
there were women out in the nights,
women sitting at the shops alone,
women walking around.
and then she smiled without a tinge of doubt
when i was clicking a photograph.
i even wondered why and how.
in such a "terrorist" state.
a night in the rain,
a sight of thousand fireflies together..
someone i was in love with; for a day.
and yet.
