Yet Again.

Two more friends leave. Kolkata is fast becoming a lonely place.

And surprise oh surprise, a phone call was missing. I do not doubt that it shall come in whatever number of days it takes to reach Bangalore from Calcutta by train along with the words 'packing' , 'hurry' and 'sorry', but it is a terrible thing. To be the only one left behind as it were, while the other parts of your world march off. And march off together.

I am told that I'm often too hard on people. I suspect that it is usually on friends. And I fear that jealousy forms a large part of it.

Makes me feel very, very, small.

Farewell At Howrah.

Another friend departs. This time to Mumbai, a charmed city. And obviously, there are usual promises, but as always, these will lose significance, fade.

It's something like standing on a platform at the Howrah station, waiting for your train among chatters, excitement, reminisces and maybe, some tears. It comes and you wait for it's departure with the twin feelings of dread and hope.And then it leaves, with the sound of the whistle you've grown to love so much since your childhood. Only, this time, you are on the wrong side of the iron strips.

Soon you are left standing alone on a deserted platform, looking round with a lump in your throat, and a head filled with years worth of memories to other platforms,where more separations, more uncertainties await.