The Parallel lines.
It was 10:15 am when I entered the narrow path between thick green bushes.After a few steps upwards I landed in front of a rail way track.Like a kid at a candy store, different choices ran through head. Go left, no… no... go right. Look at that, there is a small bridge over the road. If you choose that option then you are gathering unwanted attention. And people will see you standing up there, so you better take left.This was the kind of instruction brain was sending to body.
Started walking through the track.How can someone declare Kerala as an ‘open deification free’ state, either side of the track was drastic.So the journalist started walking on the tack.The track was rusty so it is evident that a train has not passed through it in the last few hours.And another fact is passenger trains does not run there.
Venduruthy bridge and a signal post with an orange light gave warm welcome. The Railway bridge was very lonely. There was a man on the bridge with thick beard and hair. A very grumpy face in extreme lazy mood.The water beneath was in a hurry.From the place I started walking towards the bridge, the place is covered with thick vegetation. A good hide out for literally anything. To my utter astonishment there was another human being near by.But under the bridge, in a totally uncivilized ambience. He had a traumatic behaviour.Shaking head as if he is listening to some hard rock genre.Holding a black PVC piece, in a striped full sleeves and a loose trouser.He wore a piece of cloth like a sling bag.He took a coconut probably running water brought to him.I was little frightened as if he was going to through it towards me.But he was to eat it. He is substance abuser in a total devastated state.
Leaving him back moved on to the abandoned old bridge through which some vehicles occasionally passed.Everything there lies parallel.New parallel to old, speed parallel to slowness, life parallel to death. Power pylons to fishing posts.Fish hooks in a long chain parallel to running water.
The sun was just above my head making us perpendicular to each other. But there was no scorching heat.Why should that two teenagers one wearing an ID card inside a T-shirt come to the bridge in a normal school time and bid bye ending the conversation, fixing a next meeting time around 2:30 in the afternoon.And move away in opposite direction when a gentle man in Kakhi trousers came near them.The time was around 12 noon.By the time I’ve finished scaling both the bridges. The cool refreshing lime juice marked an end to our perpendicularity, me and sun.