Chandigrah --- Bhopal --- Chennai.

India is really a country full of diversities. From the snow clad mountains of Kashmir to the mystic confluence of sea and ocean in Kanyakumari, you see people speaking different language, havingdifferent food habbits, different way of living but yet tied with that common thread of unity. Geographically, the monsoon wind might be characterised by the one following the eastern treck and one taking the western course, but the spirit of India flows effortlessly from North to South and East to West without changing faces.

As the train reaches it's peek speed, you will see the patches of green moving backwards as if someone is waiting for them at home and they are in hurry. The road follows you for a while and then suddenly bend to give way to the watery canals. The puppets standing in the wheat fields gaze at you in surprise with the feeling that if he is standing still then why the the world is moving. This is march and the wheat crop is waiting to be harvested. You see a couple of shadows working hastily in their fields weeding out the unwanted part of the crop. Whatever the season may be, Punjab is always green.

As the train crosses the numerous bridges you again see the road catching up with you. This is Haryana, the land with the highest per capita income for farmers. The land which has been the battlefield since the time immemorial. Mahabharata was fought at Kurukshetra (it's said that in some parts of Kurukshetra the color of the soil is deep red), Prithviraj Chauhan was held captive by Gori at Tarain (Now Tarawadi, a small town near Karnal), Panipat saw three bloody battles. It witnessed the rise of Akbar as the emperor of India and also the fall of Marathas in the hand of Ahmed Sah Abdali. This is the land which was plundered, looted and had suffered the tortures inflicted by the brutal invaders but the spirit has remained unbeaten.

The train slowly settles into a nice speed and your body now becomes addicted to the rhythmic movement of the train as if, it's slowly closing your eyes and making you go into a sound sleep. You suddenly wake up with a jerk. The train has stopped, you try to see out of window and all you can see is the smoke coming out of thatched huts and dots of lights coming out of tiny bulbs hanging around bamboo sticks. This is the outskirts of Delhi. As the city grow bigger the size of the houses becomes smaller and when you reach Delhi you are greetedwith stinky smell (people and animals have no choice then to deficate in open), pigs and goats competing for space with naked children and people with bare minimum on their bodies, and women folk and girls picking rags. If this doesn't give you kicks in your stomach then perhaps you don't care enough for your fellow Indians. You most probably do not belong to the common crowd and you are among the lucky few who are spared the pain of making their ends meet. Anyways without being much philosphical i think i should keep moving ahead with my journey, like my train.

The speed of train goes to the crawling minimum and it feels that the train is moving forcefully. As the pilot don't want you to miss a split second of this very very moving scene of seeing the man mastering the art of survival in bare minimum. You can't really call this life, this must be called survival. Feeling pity for the children and then for the other people you now focus on your main goal, 'Changing the train'. Delhi is arriving and you also have now to worry about the safety of your luggage. Okay so here We are in Delhi and have around half an hour to change our train. After arguing with the porter for the fare we decided to ferry our luggage (which is not heavy though but when you have facilities you tend to become addicted to it) across the platforms.

It's night and the best thing you can do is to doze off. I went into slumber thinking about that poor child who was singing and jumping (well he was trying to dance actually) with his brother playing an improvised musical instrument (something like guitar made of neem wood with strings made of electric wiring and of miniature size), to wake up with thoughts about my interview for MBA course. But again this weird thought came to my mind that would that child ever be able to go to some school and then to some college and then will he ever be able to make some choices for him? Will he ever be able to support a family? I don't know the answers for these question and I try to concentrate for the questions which are most likely to be asked to me during my MBA Interview. What are your goals in life ? Your hobbies? Your strengths and weaknesses? Your dreams? Now i am deep into thoughts. Isn't my dream is similar to the dream of that beggar child? Like getting a night's sleep without worrying for tomorrow but then this another thought comes to my mind. Will he dare to dream ever?

The train is now slowing down. The road again is running with the same pace. Speeding up, slowing down, about to pull to a stop. The slums have again reappeared on the horizon. It must be a big city. I ask the pantry worker. He replies in accented English. It's Bhopal.