its just between U & I (3)

3

He came out and stood at the door of the compartment looking into the world.
He loves the feel of the air and the view of the passing world.
He lit a fresh cigar and dragged a whiff of nicotine into him. He felt the adreline pumped in his guts and blew the smoke into the door. It came back onto his face. He scowled.

Never smoke out of the door of the moving train especially when the wind is blowing towards yourself.
Never pee into the valley or from the rooftop, when the wind is blowing towards yourself
Never spit onto the sky, however the wind is blowing.

The train was speeding away oblivious to the beautiful scenery around. The lushness of the greenery, the brooding hillocks, the dried cakes of once healthy ponds, moist buffaloes and naked kids.
But all the train is concerned about is eating as much as fuel it can and dash to the destination. It sounded more like a pitiable human than a super machine.
What a pity, it can’t look around to see what it is missing.

How would the train be feeling now? He wondered.
Will it be happy to ferry so many needful people?
Will it be sad at missing out all the other joys of life?
Will it be frustrated at the same-ness of its life forever?
Will it be insecure abt it being abandoned at the end of its life?

What’s running in the tunnels of the train’s mind?

Should he lament abt train’s ignorance or feel happy that it is never going to know what it missed. So, it would never be un-happy.
It would return to the sheds finally with a satisfaction of backbreaking service for years. And all it’s battered old friends and colleagues in the junkyard would also belong to the same league so none of them would be any wiser.
He smiled at the crankiness of his train of thoughts. He smiled again at the pun. It was impromptu and impulsive. And he loved it.

That’s exactly what drove him to her. Her impulsiveness. Her living to the best of the moment. How she would wring out the best of everything just for that moment to be everlasting and run to grab another moment of a butterfly once this is over.
No pain dampens her Arian heart and no rule can hold her wings of uncontrollable enthusiasm and spirits.
She owns her life and lives life queensize.

She wants to walk in rain. She loves being hugged in the middle of the crowded mall. She loves being kissed in a restaurant. She would smack on his back, or fist him in the tummy for all this but she would carry a million dollar worth coy baby-like happy smile on her face, which was worth every diamond and solitaire in the world.

She would blush to baby pink and check if someone noticed these antics. And then she would erupt into a whole-hearted giggle, sometimes ending the whole thing with a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.
The whole world can be so beautiful sometimes, that he wished it would have frozen there forever.

The cigarette lived in his fingers, while he lived in this thoughts. But, the cigar’s supposed to live short and probably should convey the same idea to the owner too. But not sure of the latter thought there.

It perished in peace in his fingers, without much furor.
Most of his cigars thank him for that. He hardly blows them. He would light them and they slowly burn to the finish while he would be lost in the thoughts. Thus they end up without much humiliation of being blown away into smoke and thankless million orphaned smithereens.

Again, the hair is scampering back to its waywardness, bowing to the air.

He threw away the cigar corpse and returned back to the seat.

The girl now, seated across him was sleeping with her legs stretched in this seat, leaned to the window. He was about to shove her legs away, but somehow felt it was brutal.
He was surprised, that he just behaved considerately to her. Infact to anyone other than himself. He somehow cramped himself into the other corner of the seat and looked at her.

(contd...)