Rattling sound of the clash of track and the mega wheels of the bogie is continuously tapping my ears sensors with the jerking motion of the railcar giving the feeling of the ride on bullock cart. Clouds are endlessly showering the soil from last night and I can see the big blobs of rain water striking the window glass, collapsing into the smaller dews and tricking down haphazardly to find the motionless surface in the form of the zigzag sparkling silver linings. Sun is a big circular dull red globe at its final stage of the day and is planning to hide near to horizon free from the entire universal obligations. Sky is changing the shade through the windowpane and looks like as somebody is reducing the brightness, contrast and color of the newly bought television, now it is all but somewhat between pink and violet. Though I am not able to feel the coldness of breeze outside of the glass blocked window and metal shielded compartment, however I can imagine the shivery air current. It’s Saawan “Spring Season” going on in India and new leafs on the new born small arms of the old branches are furnishing a gravid greenery all around. I am on the way back to Chennai after spending a full week (excluding weekends) holiday at my home “Ambikapur” and now I have lots of questions in my mind which I feel like, but not going to share with you. My next stop is


