Journey

Strange, strange, stretchable days.

Sitting in a grey train for a day and a half. Absolute Indian Railways half tones. Time passes as you watch the tracks converge and diverge, you make the obvious comparison to lives. Watching the tree in the distance stay put while those in front whiz past. Raise your eyebrow in alarm when the girl with the amazing personality says what a waste of land it is. She would like to see neat cultivated fields where there is wilderness. You wonder at the lack of imagination. And of your lack of reality. Economic progress, mouths to feed.

Nothing you can do except think weird thoughts, aided by a strange book. Being transported from point A to point B. You have to wait. Wait to be able to resume your life again.

A strange night filled with twisted dreams and the grogginess of a morning where you don’t have to be anywhere. And it seems so real, the warmth of the arm on your back, as you watch the green speeding away.

Arrive in a city where you were two months ago. A few familiar faces. Cafes and hang-out places which had been so alive and full of conversation – laughter, arguments, cigarette smoke. So much so that you had to steal an hour, pretend to hide behind a book, to have some alone time. And you have it now and wish you didn’t. End up calling the gang – it’s so strange to be here, sit at Krishna, pass the Wisdom Tree, without you.