By: Priya Anand
Eerie and deserted,
dimly lit with neon lights flickering
Something rustles in the corner
where darkness pools and gathers
malaise that rustles and ripples
A cockroach scurries across
And disappears beneath a cracked concrete pillar desecrated by
desperate lovers and indifferent commuters
A lone sentinel that is witness to the 16022 that roars in late every night
in angst and anger that it must stop
at this decrepit station
A piece of paper blows in with the wind,
it swirls across the platform
before it is mercilessly carried out onto the tracks,
one among many detritus strewn around
A distant bell and the possibility of a train stirs,
I walk where no light falls.
The dogs bare their teeth, it is their domain
till the iron predator usurps their position.
It is an irony that the A/c compartment stops at a no man’s land
there is none but me waiting for the A1 compartment
I step into a privileged world that the dogs and detritus will never see
As if to re-enforce my view I see curtains and cubicles in a row,
cloth barriers gently sway and give me a glimpse of peers beyond.
Swallowed within its confines I travel to my destination
in comfort as the ‘other’ endures his journey in resignation
Priya Anand is Bangalore based and has various avatars of an occasional writer of short fiction and poems, an avid trekker and traveller, and a freelance development consultant who works with the non-profit sector when she needs to make a bit of money to support her varied interests. Some of her work has been published in Spark, Bangalore Review and Bangalore Mag, The Brown Boat (Raedleaf Poetry India) and The Reading Hour.