It’s 11pm and the phone rings. Surprised to see my mother’s name pop up. It’s way past her bed time.
“So, did you visit the Golden Temple or not?”
“No, I went to the railway station and its enormous yard”
Night’s fallen. It’s hot and humid.
“There are a lot of movements in the yard today, sir. And I am on a double shift.”
At the other end of the yard, remains of the past.
In the heat and humidity and dust and grime, things become still for a while.
But not for long. Everything needs to move again.
