Last Train

Here's one from the archive....

LAST TRAIN

The carnival is over. The giant Ferris wheel stands still, swaying gently in the breeze – a silent sentinel, a mute witness to Life’s ups and downs. The weary horses on the carousel, too, bobbing to the movements of some hidden symphony seem a trifle forlorn, missing the little children who filled the place with their laughter and the sheer joy of living. The last popcorn has been popped, the last cotton candy has been spun, and the crowds have long gone home. And on the green lawns, the white Styrofoam cups stir gently in the breeze.

I am on the last train home – 0050 Churchgate-Virar, travelling with the flotsam and jetsam of society, the debris that life chooses to ignore. Sitting beside me, the sad little transvestite studies his/her pathetic fingernails. Two surly prostitutes divide the day’s takings with their guardian of virtue, one eye on the money, the other looking out for new business opportunities. Three yuppies, sit in the corner below the sign that reads “Only Me” herbal tablets – where performance counts. They clutch their laptops like lifelines in the restless sea of humanity, exhausted from the day’s work, looking forward to tomorrow where no sunrise or sunset exists. The gay banjara plays out a soulful tune in the hope that he could invoke some magic genie that could whisk him off to a better world. The tired eunuchs sitting at the door look at him with a disdainful air. Everyone working hard for the money, everyone seeking and never finding. And despite trials and tribulations, everyone living life with their own peculiar brand of heroism and yet never recognising it in themselves. Tomorrow is another day, one day closer to death ...or life. And on the compartment floor, the dust and the litter swirl in a whirlpool of frenzy, going nowhere, affecting nothing.

In the closing lines of Tennessee Williams’ play, Sweet Bird of Youth, the sad protagonist, Chance Wayne proclaims - I don’t ask you for your pity, but just for your understanding – not even that – no. Just for the recognition of me in you, and the enemy, time, in us all.

We need to recognise that we are all in this journey together, be it the prostitutes or the yuppies and together we will continue to ride the last train until we reach our destinations. In the end, none of us can defeat Father Time or his avatar, the Grim Reaper. Simple truth: adopt a non-judgmental attitude.