Wrestling with trembles

Amsterdam, 29 Aug. 2012.

My eyes are closed, my head leaning against the hard and dirt packed iron wall of this third world train, a few chicken cackling in protest against their forced captivity in way too small cages, too many of them and not enough room, not that it matters much, they are after all already on the menu of the relatives their owners are travelling too....

It is the time just before twilight, that magic time here in this Indian train, full with people as seems to be the rule in this over-populated nutcase country...

Despite the din of way too many people, memories come easy, poisoned by pain and rage, wrestling with trembles that are of a basic private nature in a country where privacy is non-existent...

That was there and then but still the same in the here and now, withdrawing to the dusty corners of my caucasian mind, in that part of my gray brain cells where my consciousness is supposed to sit on its throne of thorns and is harbouring all the traumas of my not so young anymore life...

If there is one thing I learned in four six months stints in that Magic Land some call India, it is that wrestling with trembles of a basic private nature is easy in a crowd of strangers...

My smile remains on my face but inside is fading fast...