A few days back, I travelled overnight by train after a very long time. Trains were commonplace while in college but now seemed like a new world that I hadn’t visited for years. I found my mind restless during the journey as the bogies reverberated on the tracks.
As it got close to midnight on the sleeper train, I couldn’t sleep. My station was to arrive at 4 am. That might have been part of the reason. The fans hummed, the tracks clattered, and the compartment rocked gently like a lullaby.
Everyone around me seemed fast asleep. The man above snored in rhythm. The family across had pulled a blanket tight around themselves.
Even the tea seller at the station had gone quiet. Everyone, except me and my mind.
I turned on my side, shut my eyes, opened them again. The more I tried to sleep, the more thoughts multiplied.
What if I miss my stop? Check which station it is.
Is the train on time? Wake up the attendant and ask him.
What if my bag wasn’t safe? Check the chain and lock are in place.
Was the snoring man having any illness? Wake him up and ask.
Why is it hot? Walk to the door and stand there in the breeze.
The night magnified everything. Tiny doubts grew into noisy questions.
I almost moved but stopped myself every time my mind spurred me into action. The more I fed the thoughts, the wilder they became.
It was as if the train wasn’t the only thing running through the night. My mind was too.
At one halt, I peeked out. The platform was dimly lit, empty except for a stray dog sniffing near a dustbin. A beggar sat next to it. What were they doing at this creepy station this time?
The train jerked, groaned, and pulled away again. I lay back down, still restless, listening to the compartment breathe in unison while my head ran marathons.
By dawn, the others woke refreshed. I was still wide-eyed, finally ready to drift off — just as the train rolled into my station. Everything was normal. Nothing had happened. Except in my mind.
Sometimes, the longest journeys we take are inside our own heads.
***