Riding the Rails.

TrainThe horn sounded from far. It could have been a life time away. It felt crazy just sitting here, waiting. I have been planning this sort of gig for a while now. Thinking about it, it sounded funny,  can one really plan these things. Somebody kept on calling my name and there seemed to be commotion around the stage. But that was not why I was here. I didn’t come for the attention. I just wanted to finish my symphony in peace.

Was it a strange choice? Maybe… who are they to judge me. They don’t know why I made this choice. Why I felt that this was the best way to finish this song. I looked up to the sky and I felt like I had never seen such a beautiful sight. There was a slight drizzle which brought with it a rainbow. A rainbow! The irony of the moment did not pass me as I waited patiently.The damn horn kept on interrupting my train of thought. Ha ha train…

I could hear distant crying now and many more voices. Great! Just great! I was hoping this will be a private performance. That is why I chose this spot. Come to think about it, I could have invited friends and family. Oh I would have loved to see the look in their eyes, the anticipation in their faces, their words lost in time. But, I had invited them countless times but they we’re always busy. Seems being an adult is all about being too busy. Too busy to eat, too busy to exercise, too busy to talk,  too busy to live.

Oh the noise! If I listen at an angle it sounds like they are cheering me on. But they are late, very late, too late to come in. Where were they? What were they doing? Everyone was absorbed in their own lives, nobody cared about me. They only cared about themselves, and rightly still. I can’t sincerely completely blame them. That would be unfair and pretentious of me. I can’t honestly say I haven’t been absorbed in mine.

Finally, the lights are slowly being lit. I can see them from afar. Good, right on time. Someone is trying to get on the stage with me but security are holding them back. Good. Somebody is doing their job. He tries to extend his hand to me, asking me to hold on to it. His hands look soft, I think he is one of those men who carry lotions in their man bags. I think its commendable for a man to have soft hands. I never was into rough men, I liked the sensitive ones, the ones who cry when a dog dies in a movie ha ha…

The horn again! I can barely hear them now, their cries have faded to moving mouths with matching gestures. They look like marionettes suspended mid air, abandoned by their master as a cruel joke. It was a sorry sight blending in so well with the rainbow above and somehow it gave me peace. Maybe an audience wasn’t such a bad thing after all. After twenty five years, people saw me, I was no longer invisible. I finally had a crowd to cheer me on.

The lights are now blinding, the horns deafening. Right on time. You can always depend on the train.

The train is never late.

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