Jornada del Muerto

"Different rail tracks merging and diverging from a single track,

  guards waving green torches, women working on the mustard fields,

  flock of swans sitting and suddenly flying off the watery fields, 

  smoke coming out from far off chimneys, boy raising sheep on the adjacent track,

  people waiting on cycles/bikes at the level-crossing waiting for the train to pass..!"

After three straight nighouts, Akash somehow managed to keep his eyelids open at 3 a.m. on that Saturday night. Working late night in front of a computer screen was not something very unusual for him. But searching for a place where he could find the true meaning of the questions surrounding his peaceful mind had really taken a toll out of him. The only satisfaction to him was the hope to seek the true meaning of those questions atleast, if the answers fail to satisfy him. 

After researching on the possible routes and arranging the tatkal train-tickets, he was all set for his ‘Jornada del Muerto’, the next morning. Finally, he was going to a town located in the Himalayas of Nepal. The town which is different from the world, the town where the average age is 60 years, the town where the weather remains snowy year around, the town where no language is spoken, the town where no God is worshiped. This town will be his home for the two weeks where he would be completely cut off from all forms of communication with any living being.

 It was unwonted for Akash to hit the gym after running a few miles and having breakfast in the morning but the-unknown curiosity and stress has made this a part of his daily schedule for a month.  After packing his backpack with a pair of jeans, t-shirts, a jacket, and two novels and his ipod, he somehow woke up his flat mate Vivek (who was so hungover after the-no-reason party to hardly remember if slept on or below the bed, last night) to apprise him with a perfect alibi for his next two weeks unavailability.

He took a private cab to reach the Gwalior railway station which was the jumping-off place for his Journey to the unknown.A contented smile was the only thing on his face after hearing the weird-female-voice announcement of his train's arrival. 

He boarded the train and slept like a rock for the next five hours to reach his first destination Hazrat Nizamuddin Railway Station.

P.S. : This is neither the beginning nor the end.
        *Jornada del Muerto : journey of the dead man

Cheers,
Shalabh