Tiny Tales #1

'What did the falling meteors say?'
'That some things in life are meant to last only for a few moments. Their beauty lies in brevity.'🌌

Train Of Thoughts

Under the bright afternoon sun, a train left Mumbai station, chugging on familiar tracks that led it to Delhi. Inside, snacks were served, tickets checked and a lull settled over the passengers. In one of the compartments, a young woman sat facing the window, lost in thoughts. At some point, instead of looking through the window, she started gazing at it. The train had moved past the city, suburbs, farms and was now crossing a river. Maybe it was when she had leaned to look at the river, trying to spot fishes, that she noticed a narrow brown strip stretched across the bottom of the window. 

At first glance, it seemed like an art work, a landscape captured against sepia backdrop, like the sun was setting on a forest. It was beautiful. She admired the patience of the artist who must have painstakingly painted minuscule trees, or maybe it was printed. Simultaneously, a voice in her head questioned if the Railways would ever actually paste strips of art on windows of a daily train. She leaned closer and realized that it was actually a strip of brown tape which had cracks that had appeared like trees, and at some places there were tiny patches of discolouration, leaving a tinge of blue.

'Ah! Silly me!' she thought. But the disappointment was short lived.

As she gazed at the pattern of cracks, a story appeared. It seemed like a view of a forest at a time when the sun has not quite set. At one place, there were a few diagonal cracks that looked like a man holding an axe above his head, leaning back, about to strike at a tree. Further ahead were two humans – a couple – holding hands, running away. A blue patch at the spot, made it look like they were walking into the sunset, having traversed through the forest. Perhaps, the man with the axe was not cutting trees but was chasing the couple to kill them and was striking the tree out of frustration as they had escaped. Or, he was helping them, cutting trees to block the way of their pursuers. Maybe the couple had eloped and the villagers, with misplaced sense of honour, were looking for them. But love had triumphed, they were walking into the sunset. They had escaped. At least for now.

And then, she glanced out of the window. The sun was setting, and the sky was more yellow than blue, very like the sepia background of the tape. She let out an inaudible gasp. The train was moving past a lush of trees, strikingly similar to the ones on the tape. How many times has this train crossed this route? It was a daily train to Delhi. Maybe it had witnessed something on one of its journeys which got imbibed on the tape as a memory, like it had clicked a picture, or painted one. Maybe there were other stories on other windows of the train. As it sped past the greenery, it would have mutely glimpsed parts of many stories. Did they all have happy endings? Or were there horrors too? Humans being human, or not-so-human? What did it see? Did it witness drudgery of everyday life, daily struggles of average humans, or were there extraordinary moments, too?

'Soup?'

Breaking out of the reverie, she looked about and saw an attendant offering her a tray. She looked back at the window. The sun had set, the pattern was no longer visible. She sighed, turned around and took the tray.