The morning locals hurtled noisily into the Howrah Terminus. People started pouring out of them and flooded the entire station. An equally strong train of men, women and children rushed in from the opposite direction.
In the midst of all this, a girl stood patiently waiting for her father, fighting off the excruciatingly pungent smell coming from some hidden source. Yet, there was a sense of calmness on her face. A sense of the subtle joy of going back to her home…. Home….
She then tried to take out her bottle, when almost suddenly four almost fragile looking men carrying two stretchers pushed her and walked past. A badly bruised man and even worse looking woman were on those wooden makeshift stretchers. The peace escaped the girl’s face and almost instantly she turned grim.
She wondered why uncertainty and pain existed at all….
In another few minutes she could see her father emerging from the crowd. She caught herself from being torn apart by the gloom and looked at the Boro Ghori - “Life still goes on….I will do something to make it better….for me and for all those who are there….”
