In big black letters
Painted on yellow paint
It displayed the not-so-important, almost deserted station’s name…

The stone sign-board at the platform’s far end
Standing as dirty as only
An electric train station platform name board
At the fag end of day,
Can get.

It also housed the cloth cradle
Made of a dirty sari
Holding the station’s platform dweller-cum-vendor’s infant
Sleeping unblinking
Used to having the passing trains’ sirens
As its noisy lullaby

While his mother sold her wares
Alighting on one side
And getting down on the other
With enough coins
To buy food for herself
And her little one;

One fleeting instant
Of the drama of life
From an electric train window,
In a two minute stop…