Waiting

I wait
On a dusty platform
For an indefinitely delayed train
Amusing myself with
The eternal frenzy of little tea boys
With their aluminum kettles
And serrated glass cups
The newspaper stands
That sell gossip magazines
And that unnerving group of people
Sitting on the platform
With their three course meals in metal tiffins

Sometimes I humor myself
With day dreams of getting on the train
The winding greenery it would unfold
The hot meals and innumerable hot teas
That I would have on my way
To where I want to go..
Or sometimes I read a book
But it is not the same
Because I am waiting..
For an unfairly delayed train

So unjust it is and so frequent too
That I have to wait indefinitely
For the things I want to do
It is not just trains..
I think it is my life too
That leaves these big pregnant corridors
Between what I want badly
And so little that I can do
To get it when I want it

If I could I would fly
But I cannot do it now
I could get angry and barge into
The office of the complacent station master
Who is probably beyond delays and even abuses
I could have tea, but I won't enjoy it
Because this wait is unfair and incredibly painful
I could sit there and cry silently
And replay the usual sequence of waits
That I had to go through since childhood
At least I would get this train..
But what about the other things in Life?
Those corridors that lead to something else
Than what I want to see when they end?
What about them?

Then all of a sudden a little kid
With tattered clothes and a runny nose
Comes around with a harmonium
He sings a horribly discordant love song
Going beyond his years and his vocal cords
But his big black innocent eyes
Are full of some unknown joy
The joy of being able to make money
Out of someone else's painful wait
Or just the joy of being able to sing
Freely and fully, an uninhibited love song
That turns into the biggest comedy
Just because it is sung without the fear
Of consequences.

A ten rupee note into his hands.
For making Waiting worthwhile.