The local train

I wrote this in a local train, while travelling from Dombivli to Thane on 21st March 2010. My friend had just called me to tell me how much he liked the book 'Maximum City'. He was going about how romantic the city seems, and how he wishes to visit it someday and travel by those famous local trains (He lives in Kolkata). Them I boarded the train and somehow it amused to remember his words and the following happened:

I sit here, by the window,
in a croweded local train,
I have cell-phone, in my hand,
and I'm typing a poem yet again.

As the train runs on
its slippery iron rails,
across my face, wind blows soothing,
feels luxury class of Atlantic sails.

Just beside me, a snoring man,
lost in his own personal dreams,
He sits oblivious, to all cacophony,
and his own running sweat-streams.

Then I realise yet again,
the reason behind the boarding rush,
inside the train now the tensions simmer,
oon smallest things these people fuss.

I'm asked to get up for an elderly man,
and I enter the human mill,
how much we all would be tired,
if we didn't have this massage drill.

I move with all,and the viscous flow, is what I recall,
And my friend's wish to join this crowd, I tell them,
And they laugh all!