The Pakistani Spectator

“The ode to the old train journeys………”

Part 1- The Arrival

Like a carefree bird
It arrives,
With its horns and whistles
Engulfed in smoke
Left behind,
The old trail
Of excuses and failures

As I hear the calls,
From fruit vendors
To the tea makers
It’s a long journey,
So prepare and be patient
Take it will, many days
To travel,
Across thousand miles
To unravel,
These beautiful mountains,
These lonely deserts

They say “no need to hurry”
Your destination is in sight,
Through cities of this country
They say “don’t complain”
Limited options, that is all
We have, that is all you get

Step on board, “have you paid”?
As the laughter erupts,
In silence, we hide,
In places of shadows,
Wrapped up in thin air,
The old tricks of avoidance

Lingers on, these moments
Of inspection and identification
To practice an old art,
To catch, to imprison
Those in their diversity
Of gimmicks and tricks
The joys of youthful days

Part 2- The Journey

My world moves with its roar
As this journey begins,
My belongings, my possessions
The old sight from little windows
The long drawn fields of green
As I forget, as I remain awake
Through its paces of travel
As it unleashes glances of fire
The science and its mechanics

Opens up from its windows,
The old horizon and its views
Different stories, different colours
All fused together, for a while
In haphazard arrangement,
The old trunks, the old characters
As conversations emerge
In there, with its inhabitants
Of choice and reason
In there, with its inhabitants
Of anger and in despair

Some say “this life is nothing”
But pain and more as we travel
Like joining of these dots in a line
Feels the pain, the pencil and canvass
Some more optimistic,
Never mind, we will make it,
To the lands where we know
There is peace and comfort;
Sufferings is like a little glitch
You do notice, you don’t notice
It passes through you,
Like moments of inspiration
Not its residence,
Our hearts and minds
Only the medium, to flow
The old pain, the old happiness

Part 3 – The End

Like an old beautiful song,
The old journey
Towards its end,
As Indus flows into ocean
As landmarks begin
To capture
The old human greed,
As the old characters
Begin to disappear
From my world
To another, unknown
Where will they go?
What will they do?
Only voices left and its roar

The say “you have arrived”
Safe and sound, let us present
You and your destination,
No further it will go,
This journey has ended
Not much left in you
Taken we have all out
Traces of fury and smoke
All cleansed, all purified

Part 4- The Rebellion

My only wish,
Let’s travel further,
Not mine, this destination
Am sure, there exists
Another world and peace
Please don’t stop
I still have few traces
Of fire and fury in me

My wish granted
Pay you will, the price
For wanting more,
For knowledge and wisdom
This journey has its hazards
Chosen you have lands
Unknown and distant
Chosen you have paths
Of rebellion and freedom

And Years later,
Travelled I again,
Taken they have all
My fire and traces of fury
Gone my characters -
Inhabitants of old journey
As I travel to the land of nowhere
With nothing at all but emptiness
Still in me, the old desire
To travel further, to rebel
To practice an old art,
To catch, to imprison
Those in their diversity
Of gimmicks and tricks
The joys of youthful days
Like a carefree bird!

Kashkin

Last 5 posts by Asim

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