Journey

We clambered on board the train, amidst the heat and jostling bodies scrambling in humid air that swirled about us. Chatter, noise, whistles and barks of laughter. As laconic guards look on with impassive and seen it all faces. Our fellow travellers carry lives with them, grease stained paper parcels tied with string, fresh killed chickens with legs tied and salted, strong smelling meats and spice leavened bread. One man appears to carry his whole garden produce with him, leaving his wife to struggle with impatient and excited, melting doe eyed children. We have tickets that entitle us to seats, yet I feel a tinge of envy, as young agile men clamber, loose limbed onto the top of the train. There is chaos, yet amongst it, there is also order. I watch my fellow passengers exchanging lightening chatter, their quick silver approach to life and all its viscitudes exhaled like smoke through careless stained teeth. Our travels pass with men sitting on the dusty floors, sharing jokes and making bargains, as patient wives are left to admonish and administer mothering upon numerous children, who seem part of a group, not a separate family unit. The smell of sweat and spice, hangs like a smog on the atmosphere, permeating hair and clothing. Months later I take a silk scarf, left forgotten in the bottom of my rucksack. I stare at lush greenness as grey drizzle falls. Breathe deeply, taking in yet again, that heady, heavy scent of travellers dreams. There are journeys that you remember, and some that you forget.