Tuesday, January 31, 2012

A GLIMPSE OF LIFE.

Long ago I read a wonderful poem in which the poet tells us about glimpse of a flower he has in a train journey .This was described as the glimpse of heaven. I don’t remember the lines or poet but the subject matter has left a deep mark in my life. We get so busy in our life that we forget many small &beautiful details of our short life. It’s like a song. Until you listen with utmost concentration you can’t get the lyrics and the instruments playing with it. I try to observe as much as much my life lets me. I find the most intriguing observation in gazing the world through the train window. We always have something new, to see, to observe out of that thin glass sheet…but the people on the other side are on their daily routine…who might have got accustomed or even bored with the daily passing of the train and may have stopped their observations as they don’t find anything new about it. We see different people from different places, whom we have never seen in our life & probably will not see any more. We imagine what it would be like to get in the big factories, climb on those stairs to the high chimneys…look to life from up above. To gaze, and let someone else care about the destination. Feel the wind about your face and plug your earphones in and don’t care about your hairstyle to mess up. The absurd shapes of flowers with unknown hues, which seems to have their origins in wonderlands, the green bamboo forests with its diagonal leaves spread all around the wet soil. The narrow strips in the middle of young seed beds for the highland lass to cross…or simple rhythm of train accustomed to reach its destination on time. Then again the speedy train halts and we take our bags and rush out of train and again in to our busy lives. Again forgetting what we acquired and in a corner of the heart waits the wish to be on the train and reconquer  it !                                                                                                                                                       
                                                                                                                                                     P.p.
 

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