The Journey of Life

 

I was waiting for my train to Delhi. In the dark I saw a light approaching, the toot from the engine drowned the ruckus of the station. I picked up my bag and waited for the train to come to a halt. I boarded the train and took my seat. Three other men took the seats adjacent to mine. After a brief five minutes halt, with a clang the train started rolling again. Two more men joined us at the next station and our section of the compartment was full.

 

As the train picked up speed, the distinct rhythmic sound of the train was all that could be heard. This was going to be a long journey and difficult without having anyone to talk to. Most of us were glued to our phones, occasionally peeping into the phone of the person sitting next to us. An hour into the journey and one particular gentleman, who introduced himself as Arun, couldn’t sit quiet anymore.

 

He was a jovial middle-aged man, stout and bald. He introduced himself and asked the rest of us to introduce ourselves. After the round of introductions, we shared where we came from and where we were headed to.

“So, we are all heading to Delhi,” said Arun. “We will have a good time. 36 hours to form lasting friendships.”

Arun was a witty man and his jokes cracked us up.

“Let’s have some tea or coffee,” he said. “This round is on me.”

He ordered tea and coffee from the pantry. We spoke over our hot beverages and beyond. How time flew, none of us realised.

 

Soon, it was time for dinner which was served to us. Just as we were about to retire for the night, Arun got a call. A call which erased the smile from his face.

“Friends I regret to say this, but my journey with you all comes to an end here. There’s an emergency at home and I must return immediately,” he said with a grim face. Our hearts sank, this was the first time since our journey began, that we saw him like this.

“Can I help?” I offered. “Do you want me to accompany you?”

“Thank you,” he said. “The journey ends for me. You guys must continue, your journey must go on.”

He alighted at the next station. We wished him luck and bid farewell.

 

The train rolled out of the station; we were saddened by Arun’s untimely departure. He had been the life of our group. That night, none of us spoke. There was an eerie silence, pierced by the rattling of the train running at full speed. We switched off the lights and went to sleep. At the break of dawn, we were awakened by a vendor selling tea and coffee. Each of us purchased what we wanted and started talking again, albeit a little sad.

 

At the next station, a gentleman named Aditya boarded the train.

“Is this seat vacant?” he asked. “Can I join you guys?”

We welcomed him to our group.

“How about another round of tea and coffee” he asked. “This one’s on me!”

We were instantly reminded of Arun. Turns out, Aditya was quite funny himself. We spoke and laughed and it seemed we had already forgotten about Arun. Our journey was merry once again. After our tea and coffee session I sat by the window, looking at the trees racing away.

‘Isn’t this exactly how life is?’ I thought. ‘Like this train journey.’

I pulled out my bag from under the seat and removed my diary and a pen. I decided to document this journey of life in a poem and wrote the following lines.

 

“Throughout the journey of life,

To make a name for ourselves we strive,

We harbour a desire to be remembered,

When to the angel of death, we have surrendered.

 

But, just as the train rolls on,

Life doesn’t stop when someone’s gone,

A day or few the person is missed,

Only in a frame, then he continues to exist.

 

They mourn and they pay tribute,

But always moving forward is life’s attribute,

And why should the world spend time upon,

Dwelling on the person who has gone?

 

For the ones who have played their part,

It’s time to make way, it’s time to depart,

They will be replaced by characters new,

And the story of life will forever continue!”