The Journey

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It was a ritual for him, for the past one year or so

Waiting for the morning train; which ever came at his time

Hanging on the footboard of the train made him feel like a daredevil

The sights were all familiar, but they never ceased to amuse him

The hawkers carrying their wares for the day to be sold; a variety it was

The professionals with their trusty newspapers; yes, in this day and age

The beggars either performing, singing or just begging for some money

There was always a slight sigh at the end of the journey; a sigh of foreboding


Amidst the incessant droning of the fans and keyboards

He waited to return home; for who doesn’t want to?

But jobs had to be done; it was decreed by those above him

So, biting his teeth, he did what he was told to do

For there was no other choice for him; like countless others

Even if there were a path he wished to follow, he couldn’t find it

Or he didn’t have the courage to forge his own path; maybe that was it

There was always a slight sigh in the middle of the day; a sigh laced with pain


It was a ritual for him, for the past year or so

Waiting for the night train, which ever came at his time

Hanging on the footboard of the train made him feel like a daredevil

The sights were all familiar, but they became more beautiful in the night

The hawkers selling the wares leftover from the sale of the day; a variety it was

The professionals, weary and tired from their work, seeking solace in the night

There were no beggars to be found in the night though; it was a mystery

There was always a slight sigh at the end of the journey; a sigh of relief

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