An Indian Railway Station Poem by Valsa George
An Indian Railway Station
The banshee shriek
of arriving trains,
The chug- chug sound
of departing ones,
The commotion and hullabaloo
of swelling crowds,
of incessantly falling footsteps,
The rising haggle
of blue clad porters,
The screech of trolleys
across tiled floors,
The hurried departure and goodbyes
of those heading for the sleeper coaches,
The thud of falling boots
of cops in khaki uniforms,
The cries of children
jolted out from sleep,
The engine’s grate,
The hiss and rush;
A jumbled medley of scenes
and raucous sounds
A railway station never is still
Always thronged by people,
it is the haven for a floating population
not only of daily commuters
and long distance travellers,
but of people who do not have
a roof over their heads.
As the evening train
departs with a long whistle,
the crowd vanishes
making one wonder
where the exodus of people
have disappeared in seconds!
The din subsides.
The rush narrows.
As the light dims,
wayfarers who have no shelters
come and occupy the empty corners
They lay down their tired torsos
on soiled sheets spread on the floor
and soon wafted into sleep
and glide into a world of oblivion
seemingly complete
but broken by disturbing dreams
and the bite of swarming mosquitoes.
As the daytime business is closed down,
the vendors of fruits and snacks,
of plastic baubles and stuffed toys,
wind their way homewards.
Then the night business commences,
in the dark pockets around the station!
A woman in heavy makeup,
and heady perfume
lands unseen from somewhere
as driftwood on a lonely beach
and waits here, at the appointed rendezvous
for her prospective customer
The railway station thus
plays host to all
receiving and seeing off thousands
set to locations different
and missions varied!
Wonderful, though a very familiar live image. while reading half way thru, i was about to ask hey, stations are not always submerged in unusual din as you have drawn, but, instantly was the rest of them all and the ambiance detailed. Good, though not much of worthy Valsa penning permeated deep. I feel often very dejected, even thinking of the silently slumbering cold station in full, where only the distant signal remains an afflicted witness to the dream-lost victims. Your lines at the end reminded me of my often haunted nocturnal realities.
i wish you had something to talk to be of those souls who have lost themselves in abyss of perennial afflictions.
So much activity in railway stations, and you have captured it admirably here Valsa. Well penned.
to MyPoemList and to Section D of my/our December showcase for PH poets, on my PH site. thanks, V-girl. bri :)
A true picture of a Railway Station, and an impressive one.
Indian railway station never sleeps and indeed a paradise to all king or pauper alike....hustle and bustle and such commotion are common and shrieking and chugging of trains to and fro and screaming of people around rather bring joy and pleasure momentarily indeed a retreat from far from madding crowd to screaming and noisy yet happy, cheerful and charming crowd........Valsa.....an emotions packed great write........
Dear Prof, Excellent work. I was very much involved in reading this poem, each and every paragraph is interesting and reveals what an Indian Railway station is, especially, wayfarers who have no shelters occupy the empty corners, lay down their tired torsos and soon wafted into sleep and glide into a world of oblivion, but broken by disturbing dreams and the bite of swarming mosquitoes.; And finally, not less important about what happens in the dark pockets around the station!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 11:10:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I love the hustle and bustle of a busy railway station with people going to and from places and the noise of the trains. A good write.