Excess Baggage

I recently took a train to Taxila as part of a trip and brought a book along with myself to read during the journey. It's only when the train started to move did I realize that I wouldn't be reading the book at all.

Books are for the times I take the NJ transit to meet Afshan at Penn. Station or when I'm tired after having spent the day in Manhatten.

It is because traveling from New Jersey into the heart of New York does not amount to even half the fascination and beauty in traveling from Golra to Taxila.

For one, one can feel the scenery change every few minutes. The way people walk, the colors their homes are, the kinds of clothes they wear, the cleanliness they maintain, the pets they keep, every single detail made me feel like a child again. I found myself building on tales of their daily lives and their typical routines. Romantic does not necessarily mean the stuff Mills & Boons and Barbara Cartland became famous for (although I wonder why they did). Romantic is being able to follow the smallest movement or expression into the depths of an entire tale. Alhamdo lillah.

The most enjoyable part were the children. Jumping children to match the bounce of Pooh's best friend Tigger. Jumping at the sight of the passing train, jumping in their spot with an almost contagious excitement masha Allah. The older ones shyly waved back to passengers while most just jumped.

Each time I saw them jumping I tried to describe their emotions in a single phrase if not a word. I still cannot come up with one that does their exuberance justice.

Reading makes sense when changing cities even entire states in my situation do not offer any kind of variety. Even the landscape in Umreeka looks like it was engineered on an assembly line as compared to ours, subhan Allah. I did not realize I even kept a book until I found it in my bag on reaching home.