On the Tracks

I was on a train that carried me forward,

wheels singing on iron tracks

My eyes soaked in the moment:

how alike, how unlike,

foreign yet familiar

this network of Underground,

Feels similar to

Like most tracks and platforms 

I've known of India

each a mirror 

of its people,

each a story 

in steel and motion

I was there 

like one 

among many

passengers waiting,

for doors to open,

for platforms to clear,

for journeys to begin again.

Every station asked a quiet question:

Who waits for us at the end?

Every departure whispered

There will always be another track,

another train,

another tomorrow waiting to arrive.