"Third-Class, Normal"

The whistle, the bell,

And the awakening loud horn,

After the list of stations

Have been announced with a melody;

A melody that's a repeated loop,

A melody that's familiar to every traveller.

Onward moves the Udhaya Dhevi

Towards the Sunrising East,

From the island's capital

With its loaded compartments of people;

People from all walks of life.

Paid luxury and privacy, with assured security

Inside the first and second classes;

Births, sleeperettes and observation saloons.

Commoners pretending to be aristocrats,

Seated with crossed legs, are found here

Gazing at the world over their spec's frames

And refraining from speaking and smiling.

They fall asleep displaying their scholarship,

With a boring book full of jargons in their hands

And act rich, hugging their handbags tight.

They show off with a top on their lap,

Trying to type few lines with Times New Roman

And then play touch-me-not on their tabs.

Finally theey complain about the stinking fragrance

When the doors of sanitation suddenly open wide.

But 'Third Class, Normal'

Is a paradise.

People face each other, seated opposite.

The unknown becomes known

And the stranger, a friend,

Beginning with a smile.

Parcels and packets of home cooked meals are shared amongst,

And there erupts easily a debate

On democracy or economics;

The pulse of the masses.

Jewellery being stolen

And thieves being caught

Are everyday stories here,

While new romance blossoming

And sleepless baby noises,

Are a never ending tale.

Too crowded at times,

Some mischievous hands reach through the crowd

To touch the other improperly,

When accidentally the lights go off.

It is heard in the history of the destinations,

That Sivalingam and Jayawardhana

Met each other first in a 'Third Class, Normal'

And ended up hosting a first class wedding

Of their loving children.