The Great Train Journey

by Ruskin Bond

‘What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass…’

There is something about passing trains that fills me with awe and excitement. All those passengers, with mysterious lives and mysterious destinations, are people I want to know, people whose mysteries I want to unfold. There is no joy like sitting in a train as it comes out of tunnels and jungles and passes through fields and villages—when small children shout and wave at you and you simply wave back to them.

‘I’m going everywhere,’ he said fiercely. ‘I’m going everywhere, and no one can stop me!’

‘I don’t remember,’ he said sounding puzzled. ‘It was her eyes I noticed, not her hair. She had beautiful eyes but they were of no use to her. She was completely blind. Didn’t you notice?’

Damn

THE WOMAN ON PLATFORM NO. 8

Ooh my God! Raghunathan Sir had taught us this story as part of the English course. I remember the boy pacing up and down the platform. I remember the sweetmeat seller. I remember how much emphasis Sir had put on that particular word. Oh my.

I had been feeling sick and giddy but there was a wild sweetness in the wind that I found soothing.

A happy man wouldn’t take the trouble of inventing friendships with people who didn’t exist, he’d be too busy with friends who did.

‘She should be married.’

Well, fuck you, mister.

for a woman loves security as much as a man loves independence.

Such a fool.

find

You mean 'be'.

‘I’m making tea,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing like a glass of hot tea while waiting for a train.’