Conversation at 4:16pm

Photo Credits- Google

Waiting at Track 16

On a midwinter afternoon

The waning azure that drifted when I entered

The station below the skyline.

My mind recalls

That long Wednesday

Waiting for the train, and my feet's

Rhythmic taps on the marble floor.

Where my heart

Remained still and quiet

My eyes wavered, to the wristwatch

Drawing a picture of 4:16pm.

'Do you mind if I sit here?'

Slightly startled, I look up

To a smiling face with white hair

With kind, eloquent eyes.

'So, how was your day?'

He asked, his smile never fading

Not forced, but growing

With happiness, from the heart.

In a land where there remains for me

Lots to learn, and on a day

When I wanted to run back home

Came one question that comforted my frantic soul.

'My day was good! How about yours?'

'It was good too, quite long, but a nice day :)'

'Do you work in the city?'

'Yes, and you?' 'Oh, I go to college here every day'

'That seems like a lot of work (laughs)'

'Yes, a 5-day job', I laugh along

Reveling in this light, happy break

On a day that rested heavy.

This small, tranquil conversation

Amidst the noise, of people rushing home

Of the chugging of trains

Pulling up along the steel tracks.

'Oh well, my train is here'

'Ahh ok, thank you and see you'

'You too, have a blessed day', and I watch

His calm walk amidst hurried steps towards the track.

Though never again, till today

I have come across him

One conversation that remains

A reminder of kindness in a spinning world.

How a few minutes

Of a kind act, no matter

How colossal or small

Is still kindness that colors a day special.

One conversation that woke,

Me to several others

Who had done the same before

Yet on happy days I hadn't paid heed.

The passerby who gave a warm smile

On his way down the street

The bus driver who never failed

To ask everyone about their day.

The friends who check up on me

My family who has gone

Above and beyond

To look out for me every day.

Tiny moments that open

My eyes, to the goodness

Existing in tiny pockets

Of fleeting moments in our long lives.

Where we believe

The world to be a cruel place

Transient moments that remind us

To look around,

To see the silent,

Hidden kindness

That waits to stumble upon us and teach

That the world, was always

And will be, forever

No matter the wrongdoings

And all the bad encounters,

A good, beautiful place for those who believe.

The pretty ceiling of the train station

-Nandhini