by Sharda Patasar

Created on: July 25, 2008   Last Updated: July 29, 2008

It's a cold November day. The train has already embarked on it's journey from Dover Priory to Waterloo Station. Travellers get on, get off, each one passing by, oblivious to the other entity sitting just opposite or next to. There's nothing more to do on the journey than to sink into the customary anti-social dispositions: absorbed in books, newspapers, laptops and whatever other paraphernalia that aid in the proper functioning of such behaviour.

I'm staring out the window at the fog covered countryside. The weather is reflective of my mood. It's been a bad day, one filled with disappointment, anger, hurt. A broken friendship, a love that won't ever mend. Some things fade into oblivion after a while. It's just a matter of time. The fog makes my mental state worse but perhaps even the greenery would have been depressing for Nature possesses that vexing habit of being empathetic to the state of mind.

A child comes on board with his mother. He is probably about five years old. She seats him and then takes her place opposite him. Sitting behind them, I can see both reflections in the window. My attention shifts back outside. It is most certainly a gloomy day. The fields are shades of green; dull, covered by light fog. I can see approximately fifty feet ahead or so I gauge. Further on, nothing is discernible. Yet the child sees.

He makes animated gestures towards the absent mother trying to bring her attention to the dirt on the railway tracks. There are stones too! The train passes through a tunnel, all is dark and quiet and only the sound of the train on the tracks can be heard. As we emerge into the lacklustre day once again, there is an exclamation of delight. This time it's a carrier truck on a road running alongside the railway lines. It's about fifteen feet away. The child doesn't ask questions. All he does is point out what catches his fancy and chats away about the things visible to him.

I'm captured by the child's lively little voice. It brings a smile to my face for the first time that day and I wonder at his wonder. Children have never failed to teach. I do believe that some of the most important lessons in life I've learnt from them. Sometimes it's easy to forget as adults, in our drive towards fulfilling ambitions, our preoccupation with time and planning ahead, that even in troubled times there is fifty feet ahead that is still visible. Straining to see past it, simply results in just that-strain-because until the fog passes, nothing is going to be visible.

When everything else is done-destination known, tickets purchased and in hand, bags packed and seat taken-what else is there to do than to begin the journey. Enjoy the moments, savour the scenes, focus on the fifty feet ahead if that's all that's visible, and look on as the journey unfolds.

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