Holocaust of Dreams..part 2

Contine from Part 1.....

     The train was on right time so do We. Here begins my unwanted, untimely journey from Nagpur to New Delhi in Tamilnadu express jam-packed with Tamilians. I was still standing outside the train on platform number 1 with a Sleeper Class Ticket in my hand waiting to get confirmed and me waiting for next instruction likely to get either from my brother or from the station announcer. A mellifluous breeze immixed with the aroma of oranges blew gently across my face. I noticed an old age lady selling the so called best oranges in India next to me. The woeful plight of her life can be easily seen in the wrinkles covering her skin in a same way as the quality of those rotten oranges can be judged by the wrinkles on their peels. Why I was looking at the wrinkles on the rind of that oranges instead of enjoying its sweet aroma. Why all of a sudden I started looking at the other side of life which is not so beautiful.

    She slowly lifted her bamboo woven basket half filled with oranges to put on her head and started moving towards the other end of the train perhaps to find new buyers for her product. My eyes were glued to her paralytic walk until I had to step back to give way to the approaching Handcart of a magazine seller.

    
   I stepped into S6 coach being declared least worst-occupied after thorough examination of the full train and thereafter confirmation by one of my cousin who was there.

   
   Inside the coach I somehow managed to find a safe place for my little belongings and walked back to the door with one eye still fixed to that and other searching my beloved ones through the metal bar framework of passing windows. By the time I reached the door the train had already been signaled to run. I saw my father walking in a direction of  the moving train and waving his hand to bid me adieu. I waved back at him till few other passengers pushed me inside while rushing into the coach already filled well above its capacity ......(To be continued...)