It’s 3:30!!
Rushing towards nowhere, I could see similar faces entering Rockfort. Not the temple. The 10:30 train that is haunted by a lot of NITTians on Friday night. Obvious, isn’t it? A stressful week demands a home-break. People from far-fetched natives find peace in late night binge sessions. Desperate times require desperate measures.
Platform is a busy place. You can’t be leisurely. With luggage stuffed in both hands people generally look straight, minding their own business; but me, a soul who craves content can’t really stop digressing from the usual. People crossing in mad diagonals put you in an unalarmed maze wherein the only option is to be pushed or push. I have always been fond of the latter.
This blog sees light in a dark AC waiting Hall where I was marking time for my 3:30 beauty. This piece isn’t a pastime. Visuals that force your fingers to sprint over the Qwerty and intrigue you to express. Writing is just a form.
Rewind!!
Boarding bus to Central Bus stand is a textbook process, involving a worth-it tip to Arun Auto and handing the half-cut sign-out form to a fancily dressed security guard who doesn’t take a second to throw it in the bin. Reminds me of how blind-eyed we are when it comes to processes. We follow it like GOATS. Strictly not referring to the abbreviation aspect of it. This isn’t an Instagram comment section ma’am/sir. The urge to write ma’am before sir, somehow caters to my pseudo-feminism side. I hope you are elated if you are one too.
An empty bus is a heavenly sight. Being a true Indian, I proudly blocked a two-seater side for myself exactly like our amateur parents did using tiny us as legit placeholders. For their knowledge, I’m 20 and I still prefer laps.
Loud music feels 3-D with splashes of wind from the bus window. You experience an amazing ride in 20 bucks, only if you ignore the bumps and sharp turns pulled in by the Mr. Schumacher handling the wheel. Conductor’s signal helped me prepare to get off and here I was sliding my tourister through the platform of a surprisingly clean public station.
While texting my dad, I saw two strangers, Dhoni and Ashwin. It’s weird to call them strangers if I’m aware of their names, but I never met them. While crossing, this pair just happened to grab my attention and I glanced at the back of their t-shirts. This place has mad CSK fans, in bulk. So Dhoni had his hand over Ashwin’s shoulder and the two buddies, rushing home after work, gossiping about their boss, just couldn’t control their laugh.
Not with god’s mind you could judge they were blind. Even with their sticks stuck to their fingers, they seemed independent together. A glaring sphere of friendship passing in all its innocence, ignited my sensitivity. I could really make so much observations in that very second. I’ll refrain from expressing any. We leave stories open-ended while this is just an emotion and we are more than capable to feel. These visuals shouldn’t be termed uncanny but you don’t see them often, do you?
Capture them in your own foil. They’ll unwarp sometime in future making you a better human version of yourself. I had to word it. I have never felt more compulsive as a writer.
A violent scene is of no amusement but it surely gets a lot of taction. A Railway police lady beating the ‘’dash” out of a drunkard ragger, one nuisance to prevent another. That’s the best part about public visits. You have a neutral stand towards everything going around but you still fit yourself into each story and imagine how grateful or useless you should feel about life. Such nanoseconds of questioning life, lead me to the waiting hall finally.
As soon as I stepped in, I knew I had to run towards the charging slot. I’m an unemployed second year student yet I am more concerned about my phone’s food. I’m extremely apologetic if it hit you the way it should have. This mind gets harsh sometimes.
I had company. It took me an hour to realise that I can utilise this company for a conversation. Gladly, she struck the chord. “Whatever you are writing is really cool!!”. She was peeping into my screen from the left side. I was on the fourth paragraph of this blog and I had already planned to write four more atleast, at that point in time. Appreciation is the best form of motivation and if you are slightly self-obsessed, it helps like a tonic.
Two talkative people aren’t in need of topics. It was 2 in the night and even with train timings at the back of our minds, we won’t stop blabbering. Experience, views, perceptions, corrected perceptions and a person to judge. Conversations have so much to give you back. Its hard to think of a reason why one shouldn’t appreciate unplanned talks. My laptop which felt ignored for more than an hour now, got some attention back when she left at her time.
The journey hasn’t even started, but this part of the blog is about to see its terminal. Noticing can give you stories. Every soul wandering around you has a whole life behind. Forget about discussions, a mere reaction can give you thoughts leading to observations. Are we ready to observe? The answer leads to the fabrication of the kind of content you want to develop. I’m no teacher but I am a preacher of the fact that sums up this piece that……………………, wait.
Its 3:30.
Culprit- Rehbarr
(Samarth Agarwal)
