I was weeping profusely. The hot tears were running down my eyes like a waterfall on my travelling bagpack. I was finally moving on. Moving on from years of confinement, resentment and frustration. I am leaving back my sorrows, my happiness, my moments, memories, happy, sad everything behind to build up fresh ones. It is midnight, yet I reach the railway station. I board a train going to Mumbai without a ticket. I hide myself in some way in one of the coaches. Sometimes inside the washroom, occasionally near the huge doors. Basically, the night is sleepless and bitterly cold, especially when I am in a simple kurti and a sheer pair of jeans. I should have had on a jacket or something too. However, the dark hours fade away slowly leading to …show more content…
I open the gate slowly and peep out. I am pushed by a lady rudely to let her use the washroom if I am done. I frown at her and come out going towards the coach door. I look for some sign boards to indicate the station. And to my relief it is Mumbai finally. I descend with my baggage. A coolie comes asking, but I decline. You can’t trust anyone here. Being a complete stranger here, I ask someone the way out. Still, I am clueless where to maneuver now. Because though I have sprinted out of my shell in a tantrum of frustration, I wasn't having any idea where I was going. I get out to the road and keep walking, staring hundreds of those other people swarming around. The taxi drivers come following like that coolie, but I brush off them too. It’s not that cold here thankfully. I move aside to the footpath after roaming here and there like a vagabond in the streets. It has been half an hour I am exploring this city like a dumb. If I feel I take a turn, If I don’t I keep strolling straight. I am lost here already, lost in these yellow woods of hazy aspirations, without any …show more content…
Initially nothing pleases my eyes, but soon I hit the end of the path. It opens to another Road and unlike other roads here, it is crowded with people rather than vehicles. To quench my curiosity, I try to tear apart the crowd to arrive at its origin. Instead, I get shoved down to the earth with a great force. Rage takes over my head and I get up with more durability. This time I shove away anyone who strains to push me back. Finally, I arrive at the front. Surprisingly, I see a large vacant area where the common people are not occupying space. But cameras, lights, and more machinery are stowed with Professionals. Now I understand why so many people are gathered here. A film shooting is going on here. The director is busy, his assistants are also storming here and there, working on the other side of the road. In the center of the black path, a truck is resting a bit far from here. It’s then I locate the Heroine Sunaina Chauhan on the footpath with her makeup artist and spot boy holding her umbrella, though it’s neither rain or sunlight. The question that pops to my mind now is who is the Male lead? I bend forward to find out but I see no recognisable face. Then, within a second, somebody
She picked a seat in the way back, away from all the people. She silently stared out the window making a quiet list inside her head of all the things she had forgotten and all the people she remembered. Tears silently slid down her face as she remembered her aunt crying and cousins afraid of the dark in their house. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was the best for everyone she thought. Deep down though she knew how hard it would be for everyone to find out she was leaving. From her family’s tears, to the lady in the grocery store who was always so kind and remembered her name. She also knew how
“I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
“ I myself fell prey to wanderlust some years ago, desiring nothing better than to be a vagrant cloud scudding before the wind... But the year ended before I knew it... Bewitched by the god of restlessness, I lost my peace of mind; summoned by the spirits of the road, I felt unable to settle down to anything.”
They live an almost feral existence and explore the local area for food and job opportunities every day. Moreover, one fateful day, Saroo begs his older brother Guddu to take him along on an adventure. His brother agrees with it and brings him to the station. At the station in Berampur, Saroo asks for some rest because he is tired. Therefore, Guddu allowed him to relax on a bench while he needs to take care of some things. However, when Saroo wakes up, Guddu is gone. He decides to sleep on a more comfortable train car bench. When Saroo wakes up the second time, he finds himself trapped on a moving train. After a long journey, the train finally pulls into Kolkata station and leaves Saroo alone. In this story, Saroo is a five-year-old child, although he needs to face the sudden obstacles, he can still come through bravely and find the way
Through lonely, ill-fated, descriptive language, The Pedestrian left readers shocked and whirling with realism of the story. Bradbury 's message hit home as a firm warning, yet adds a glimpse of hope. The Pedestrian prompt its reader to reflect on their surroundings and continue its relevance despite the vast changing
Did you know that most of the U.S.A was just being moved into in the 1840's? There were benefits and consequences to those who moved west and the government. There were too many people moving out west and our relations with the natives worsened. Even though we wouldn't have Texas and California if we moved west, I'm sure we would still be able to California a different way than invading other people's land. The people of the U.S in that time period shouldn't have just gone in there and take over the land. The consequences outweighed the benefits by far, we worsen relations with the natives and we were losing people to the west.
As I waited for the 6 train, I walked to the spot to get on, calculated purposefully to the exit of my final destination stop. To ignore the homeless people in the way of where I am going, I turn my music louder, look down, and walk faster. Once I arrived at the stop, I grounded my feet at where I presumed the train doors would open so I will be the first to get on. As usual, I was the first to step onto the train. I went in slowly, snooping for a seat. As I looked down the row of people, like stalks of corn, I was pushed. Shoved into the train by hands clinging onto my shirt, I looked back in disgust. An old lady, arms still stretched from pushing me, looked back and mouthed, “Thank you.” Furious, I thought, did she really just thank me
“Its deserted streets are a potent symbol of man and nature 's indifference to the individual. The insistence of the narrator on his own self-identity is in part an act of defiance against a constructed, industrial world that has no place for him in its order” (Bolton). As the poem continues on, the narrator becomes aware of his own consciousness as he comes faces nature and society during his walk. He embraces nature with the rain, dark and moon but he also reinforces his alienation from society as he ignores the watchman and receives no hope of cries for him. The societal ignorance enforces our belief that he is lonely on this gloomy night. “When he passes a night watchman, another walker in the city with whom the speaker might presumably have some bond, he confesses, ‘I… dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.’ Likewise, when he hears a voice in the distance, he stops in his tracks--only to realize that the voice is not meant "to call me back or say goodbye" (Bolton). The two times he had a chance to interact with the community, either he showed no interest in speaking or the cry wasn’t meant for him. These two interactions emphasize his loneliness with the
Upon arrival into the jungle of vast buildings, the first thing noticed is the mobbed streets filled with taxi cabs and cars going to and fro in numerous directions, with the scent of exhaust surfing through the air. As you progress deeper into the inner city and exit your vehicle, the aroma of the many restaurants passes through your nostrils and gives you a craving for a ?NY Hot Dog? sold by the street venders on the corner calling out your name. As you continue your journey you are passed by the ongoing flow of pedestrians talking on their cell phones and drinking a Starbucks while enjoying the city. The constant commotion of conversing voices rage up and down the streets as someone calls for a fast taxi. A mixed sound of various music styles all band together to form one wild tune.
Not being able to stand such self-torture, I hurried my pace to what was almost a jog, until I had caught up with the unfortunately boring group that I was, as I felt, universally bound to. I came to a bend in the tunnel, where I saw through the glass window, that which before entering, gave no hint of its existence. "I'll soon be in the air."
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
With stress on my mind and a cookie in my hand, I headed towards the wooded area behind her home. At the beginning of the trail, there was an old rotting tire swing barely hanging onto a low-hanging branch. The extensive amount of muddy puddles and the surrounding damp grass made me hesitant to follow through with my grandmother’s suggestion; the mountain of homework that waited for me back at home convinced me to continue. Trees towered over me, adding to the existing weight of stress that sat upon my shoulders, as I carefully maneuvered around the biggest puddles, beginning to become frustrated. Today was a terrible day to go for a walk, so why would my grandmother suggest this? Shaking my head in frustration, I pushed forward. The trail was slightly overgrown. Sharp weeds stabbed my sides every few steps, and I nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch. As the creek barely came into view, I could feel the humidity making my hair curly and stick to the sides of my face. After stopping to roll up the ends of my worn blue jeans, I neared the end of the trail. Bright sunlight peeked through the branches and reflected off the water. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud, seeing as it now blinded me as I neared the water. A few minutes passed by before I could clearly see
So it all started when my aunt and uncle and their kids all moved in. Let me start it a couple of weeks before it all happened. So it was a normal day I just got done with my homework. I always do my homework right when I get home. ISo anyways my dad called me and my sister out into the living room.
I got up early that morning due to an improper sleep during the previous night. It was due to the anxiety to start fresh with my new life. I was determined to be the best in whatever it is that I do, so that I would have something to be proud of in the pages of my life. Due to the fear of reaching late during my first day, I reached one hour earlier than necessary and decided to spend some time at KTC (Kelapa gading Trade Center) which is located right beside the University. I was hoping that time would move a lot faster because I wanted to find out about what was going to happen next. But it is a common fact that if we are anxiously waiting for something, time would seem to crawl a lot slower. When it was finally the time to head back to the campus, I hoped for everything to go on smoothly, just as how I expected it. I braced myself and went to meet Sofia, who was responsible for the new students, to inquire about my classroom. After being instructed on which room to go to, I started walking towards the class, the mixture of excitement and nervousness start to fill within me. I started to feel like standard 1 all over again where I was a little kid who didn’,t know where to go. I didn’,t know anyone in the class except for Diksha who is my childhood friend.