One Night, On The Last Train To Jurong By G. P. Sasidharan

One Night, On The Last Train To Jurong

By G. P. Sasidharan

Hurrying through an unusually quiet Raffles Place,
I descended the steep and silent escalator,
to the cavernous belly of the station;
knowing that the last train to Jurong,
would soon be approaching.
I looked up and murmured in relief.
“Ah! Three more minutes.”
Settling on a concrete bench,
I looked around. Two metres away,
stood an old man, fidgeting,
seemingly impatient to get home.
Nearby, two ‘executives’, brief cases in hand,
engaged in an animated, but whispered chat.
As the train arrived and doors slid open,
we hurried into the last coach.
The doors began to slide shut,
as a young couple rushed in,
giggling and hugging each other.
Settling on the vacant seats opposite
and ignoring all else,
they whispered, kissed and cuddled,
as the old man promptly dozed off.

The train sped on,
stopping at stations,
disgorging and picking up weary commuters.
The speeding train kept the couple busy,
as the ‘busy executives’ gazed at them,
grinning, nodding and shaking their heads.
Arriving at Braddell, the old man woke,on cue,
and shuffled out, as the doors opened.
As the train slowed and stopped at Bishan,
the ‘executives’ alighted, albeit reluctantly.
The young man smiled at me.
Returning the gesture, I nodded
as the train sped on.
On reaching Canberra, I stood up,
muttered, “Good night!” and
began the short stroll home.