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More by Arkaydass Chaudhary.

At the Level Crossing

Here I come
To a screeching halt
At the closed doorsteps
Of the level crossing
Which falls on my daily path.

From the ruins
Of the driver’s seat
I rise like a Phoenix
And in no time
Get lost in the remains
Of a drowsy past.

There, I delicately felt
The dry petals of a red rose,
The clumsy lines
Of a crumpled love-letter,
And broken smiles
Of a pair of white lips
Pronouncing few unintelligible
Alphabets at the parting time.

And I lent my anxious ears
To the dying echo
Of receding footsteps
Overtaking me
During a heavy moment.

I also remember
How I pitied all and sundry
Who hastened to console me,
For they claimed to decipher
The language of my tears
Silently flowing
From the Gangotri of my eyes.

Here I wake up
At the deafening horn
And metallic commotion
Of throbbing automobiles
At my back,
As the level crossing opens
Before my eyes.