I dream of a blue train bending at the curve
The coal-eater train, through the green hills
As if it were a Gir lion one would see walk in
At the bend where a brown hill fell in the sky
And is distorted by an overbearing blue dome.
The train chugs in with men hanging from it
As if they are fleas hanging on the lion’s eyes
Its eyes closing in on a patient understanding.
I like its leisurely pipe smokes in a winter sky
And roars of annoyance as men come its way.
It is not a train to take me to the world’s end
Where mountains lose their peaks to the sky.
With only a tiny fire in its belly it is just a toy.
(The train is the Darjeeling- Himalayan railway between New Jalpaiguri and Darjeeling, nick named “toy train”)