Because we're a series of short stories

...and here's a short story from my life.

I've always had an affinity towards railway tracks. I've never really known why. And I think I had an epiphany on why railway tracks (perhaps) mean so much to me apart from the metaphorical (and literal) parallels one can draw from their existence and significance.

These tracks are entwined in my story. They are more than what their rusted entity has become today. They signify that part of my life which have not many semblances or pictorial representations - my childhood. My childhood evenings, to be precise. These are the long outdated and unused tracks that run at the periphery of CV Raman Nagar, Bangalore.

These tracks are where we spent many an evening; my brother, paternal cousin sister (may her soul rest in peace) and me. These tracks are where we tried all our balancing acts while walking the length of the line, only to topple over either by our being novices at balancing or by the distant and thunderous vibrations we'd learnt to distinguish as an oncoming train. These tracks remind me of the lazy summer evenings we'd dream of after school; walks that always gave us such a sense of adventure and wonder, mostly because walks on the line were forbidden and because we had such a beautifully characteristic imagination, like all children do. 

These tracks also brought me face-to-face with how instinctual and protective I am of my brother. I remember us facing our biggest challenge ever of crossing the road to get to the tracks, a road which had traffic of the late 80s/early 90s - the occasional auto, car and tempo. And it was on one such evening that my brother tripped and fell on the road while we 3 were crossing it. I don't know how or when but my sister and I were immediately on guard, shielding him from an oncoming tempo, flailing our arms for the driver to stop while my brother gathered himself up. I don't remember the rest of the evening because it wasn't important enough to remember. It made me reinforce what an elder sibling feels for their younger one. It still does. And yes, it's a big deal for me not because it was something courageous we did but because it made me realize that age can never really come in the way of protecting the one you love. In fact, nothing ever can. And it was quite deep and binding.

These tracks also remind me of Saturday mornings spent with ma and Sam. Ma had just learnt of my brother's and my myopia problems and believed that walking barefoot on dewy grass early in the morning would help. So we would walk hand in hand, on the cold dewy grass along the railway line till we could wait no longer to rush back home and grab the latest edition of Chandamama the newspaper man had just dropped by. 

That's what this line signifies to me. And I finally got the chance to walk up and show it to you. I lived further down, things have changed drastically, I've come a long way, but the view from where I stand today hasn't changed.