Fifteen days ago. Yes. Exactly fifteen days ago, the train I was travelling, came to a sudden stop. I though that someone must have pulled the chain. Of course, it was not to be. That was because of a signal. However, I was sleeping when it stopped so I did not know that the train had stopped because of the signal. I was aware only when I got up.
Once I got up, I went into the toilet to empty my bladder. The bladder was full because I had drank lots of water, the previous night because of the spicy E.sait biriyani. Ideally, for the quantity I consumed, the backside of my body should have been full. Forget it.
The train had stopped. It was 6 am. I got down and lit a cigarette. Yes. In the railway station. I can do that because I am a character in this blog post. You should understand that I am not real. If I am real, why the fuck would I bother to tell you my story? Even if you are interested, you should be asking me. I should not be telling it to you all by myself. Ah. Forget it.
I lit a cigarette. I just turned around and saw behind the platform. A village was seen at a look-able distance and few birds were flying. When the birds flew, they were making some noise which I could not hear. I looked down while the smoke from my cigarette went up. I saw a trail of ants. The trail resembled a train that was running without any signals. When a small ant could maintain such complex movement with ease, how could humans like us falter in maintaining a good train?
Beyond a point, the trail of ants vanished. But the train of humans never vanishes. Maybe, that is the difference between the disciplined ant transport and the irregular human transport. However tantramatous a train can be, it stays within its tract just to stay in its track. If it moves a bit, it topples. If it turns fast, it topples. Ant train doesn’t.
Shit. I moved somewhere else again. I was smoking while the ants were moving in a straight line. When I finished the cigarette, the signal was green. The train started, ants kept moving, and I hopped on. The train let out a plethora of sounds, which, in my opinion, was very similar to the tantrum of a 2-year-old wailing boy child. It was foolish to relate this to that, but that’s how I do. No. I am not a fool. I imagine. You should remember that I am a character in this blog post.