The Silent Platform | The Daily Star
12:00 AM, September 05, 2019 / LAST MODIFIED: 12:00 AM, September 05, 2019

The Silent Platform

I’m standing alone on a platform, like a lonely dog in the middle of night, like a wet crow in a rainy morning, or like thirsty passers-by in a summer mid-day.

It’s middle of the night. I’m staring at the restless lady with sweaty temple waiting for her train. May be she’s enjoying solitude or getting bored with it. She took a long sigh. Is it a sigh of relief or anxiety? Is she excited or anxious about her journey? She wore a magical smile having tear filled eyes, which are sparkling in the tissy tossy light. “What does that symbolise?” I kept pondering. Is it the happiness of heart that overflows her eyes or the clouds of her soul that can’t hold grief anymore so it decided to rain?

It’s middle of the night and I’m uttering in my mind,

“Oh the traveler, tell me dear

To me, why do you seem so familiar?”

Thousands of questions and millions of answers popped up in my mind as the night kept getting darker and colder. All my scattered thoughts found their destination when I heard the whistle. Oh, the train has arrived! She opened her eyes wider, from either joy or woe, I wouldn’t know. She’s waiting for the train to stop as she’s not enough stout now to get into a running train. But alas! Once she might have been strong enough to deal with all the ups and downs in her life. The bags under her eyes are the signs of her bumpy life. Now she’s tired, she’s as helpless as a new born. She’s as sleepy as a day labourer becomes in the evening.

That long awaited train arrived and she got into it silently. I raised my hand to bid her final goodbye but I couldn’t. May be that’s the hardest goodbye I’ve ever witnessed. She’s leaving, taking all the memories with her and cutting all threads. I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my heart, an ache in my soul and all those flowing down my cheeks. I couldn’t resist her from leaving as I couldn’t hold those tears from flowing.

It was in the middle of night. That 72 years old lady, whom I was taught to call grandma had passed away. Her body’s lying on the hospital bed, she’s sleeping silently. They said platforms are full of chaos and noise, I think they’ve not seen a hospital cabin where you find new travelers of this planet as well as old one to say goodbye to. The place which witnesses the most sincere prayers, the warmest welcomes and the hardest goodbye. Not all platforms are noisy and chaotic, some are more silent than a winter morning, lonelier than a summer noon and darker than graves.

Finally, she left her home to reach another home, away from home that she cherished her whole life. We are all travelers waiting for the final journey towards our destination, to our home away from home. We are still homeless in home.

It’s the middle of night and you know what life goes on with its only constant; change.

 

The writer is a 4th year MBBS student at Faridpur Medical College.

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