The Lights And Yellow of The Moon - A Train Journey in Poetry

The glimmering lights and yellow of the moon, 

The passing by huts and buildings, 

The discussions on hot topics of politics: 

Where each agreed on “I am BJP, you are Congress”, 

The adjusting of the suitcase and bags with others’, 

Similar to adjustment of a new baby in the world; 

Where one hand becomes two, 

And one idea becomes a concept, 

Where can you see such unity, if not in a train? 

The quietness of solidarity, 

Shared seats, food, and all lights turned off; 

Some in sound and few in alert sleep, 

Ignorant to the next berth’s snoring; 

Where can you see such unity, if not in a train? 

Everything so quiet, only the sound of the train, 

As it rushes on the track, whistling, 

As if singing a lullaby, shutting every sound; 

To ensure the safety of both the lion and lamb, 

Freighted on the Noah’s Ark; 

Where can you see such unity, if not in a train? 

There is a berth, same as all, 

But it appears different, Why? 

Eyes of the adjacent berths were fixed on it; 

Checking all its compressions and expansions; 

But, only inside views: perhaps ‘unity’ terrifies? 

But as lights dimmed, the red eyes of the wolf, 

Is now visible, in the unity of the sheep! 

As the wolf pounced on the berth, 

Everyone could hear as it wept in pain 

But it is unity, that both dumbed the weep 

And deafened other ears 

Where can you see such unity, if not in a train?