It was probably an year ago when my mother , my aunt and I went to Bangalore to visit my sister who is settled there. Our train journey from Durgapur to Bangalore was for an “imaginary one”. Now I dont really mean that the whole journey was my imagination; what I mean is all the time during those three days we spent in the train all I did was “Thinking”. I sat on a window seat and gazed at the ever changing scenery outside and thought and thought and thought. At times all this was accompanied by some English songs. I plugged headphones and in the next moment I was not there inside the train. I would probably be in my own imagination…somewhere running beyond those endless rice and sugar cane fields that seemed to open their arms and welcome…or probably I would be somewhere near those rocky hills that stood stubbornly beside the railway line. At times I imagined myself to be among those little kids who were busy climbing coconut trees and probably I would be waving at the moving training like they did.
The nights would be quite different. All passengers inside the train would be fast asleep and I would be peeping outside the window like a little ghost. Outside the fields , the huts , the plantations , all seemed sleeping in utter darkness. At occasions I would see distant lights from some hut or settlement. At times I dozed of and saw strange things and then suddenly get back to my senses. The next moment I would be arguing to myself if what I saw was a small dream or my imagination or the reality.
These shattered imagination still haunt my head but I like them. At time when I really feel unpleasant about the world I live in ; I close my eyes and implant my head in the pillow and then “skAdooSh”. I step inside my imagination…a world made up of fragmented memories and who knows may the world that I will see in the unforeseen future….may be the world where I would really belong.