Today, for the first time in my life (which has not admittedly been very long) my train was a mere one hour forty five minutes late . This was a train journey I enjoyed too- after very long. Not because I particularly wanted to return to my destination– in fact given a choice I wouldn’t, but commitments are things that one completes and then leaves. It was not as if, this route was new, I have traveled it a dozen times over, so much so that I sometimes thing I can recognize one gnarled tree from another…This time though, there was some magic . The long snaking railway lines, star studded skies, open fields with bright yellow mustard flowers, hills dotting the landscapes that blended from green to orange to red to blue and then to black. There was a whole new world out there– a world in which the ceaseless chatter of Tamil Nadu Brahmins (taking their sheltered sons to Delhi for the time, professing knowledge of south Delhi which housed Rashtrapati Bhavan and Taj Mahal which was in North Delhi …) echoing in the insides of the claustrophobic compartment did not matter. I could hear the wind blowing the curls off my shoulder just for fun– I could smile at the little village girl and watch trees burst into a blossom of monkeys for hour after hour . Large joys from a short gaze through a tiny barred train window… window into reality, where I just might find myself.