The Hollow Within

 There’s a hollow I cannot name,
A quiet ache without a face;
As if something slipped from my hands,
Or time stole more than I could trace.

It feels like loss without goodbye,
Like someone pulled my world away;
An unseen force, a sudden shift,
That left my heart unsure to stay.

Insecurity knocks loud at night,
Whispers fears I try to hide;
It says I’m small, I’ll lose it all
That nothing good is on my side.

But maybe what is torn apart
Is only making room inside;
Maybe every shaken ground
Prepares a stronger place to stride.

Break the Spell

 Laziness wraps around my day,
A silent thief that steals my way;
Though fire within me wants to rise,
It dims beneath those heavy sighs.

It pulls me down like gentle chains,
Soft excuses, sweet remains;
I fight a little—then give in,
Like a helpless child within.

Time slips past in quiet defeat,
Dreams fall down at my own feet;
Oh God, lift me from this haze,
Guide my steps through brighter days.

Give me strength to stand and start,
Discipline within my heart;
No more surrender, no delay
Lead me on the rightful way.

Tides - Wishes

Upon the shore the restless waves arise,
With silver arms that stretch beneath the skies;
They long to reach, to hold the waiting land,

To pull it close within their cooling hand.

Each day they rush with hope’s unbroken might,
They try, retreat, then gather strength to fight;
Though knowing well the shore will never yield,
Still back they charge across the open field.

The shore just smiles beneath the sunlit ray,
Unmoved, untouched, as waters fade away;
It knows no tide can drag it to the deep,
No roaring wish can claim what it will keep.

So are our wishes—waves that rise and fall,
And goals the shore that stands beyond them all;
The struggle roars, the patient smile remains
An endless dance of losses, hopes, and gains.

Rise

 It’s not their opinion that defines your name,
Not their comparisons, not their game;
Stand tall, don’t let their shadows win,
Your strength has always lived within.

Don’t bow your head for what is gone,
The past is dusk, the future dawn;
Stop counting losses, scars, and cost,
You are not broken, you are not lost.

Focus sharp on what you can do,
There’s power burning inside of you;
Be yourself: bold, awake, alive
This is your moment. Stand. Rise. Thrive.

After the Last Train - Part 8 - Final

 

The Ordinary Days

Days did not stop.

Office emails still arrived.
Meetings were still scheduled.
Files still required signatures.

Kabir returned to work.

At first, everything felt distant, like watching life through glass.

He avoided Platform 3.

He stopped noticing autos.

Coffee became just coffee again.

Weeks passed.

The sharp pain softened.

The memories blurred at the edges.

Her voice became harder to recall clearly.

Sometimes he tried to remember how she laughed 
but the sound would fade midway.

Gradually

He stopped checking old chats.

He stopped standing near the place where it happened.

He stopped waiting.

Routine is powerful.

It fills spaces.

It covers cracks.

It teaches you how to wake up, work, eat, sleep 
without reopening wounds.

Months later, he could go through an entire day without thinking of her.

Not because she meant little.

But because life kept moving.

And so did he.

Somewhere, deep inside,
a small corner still held a train platform,
an unfinished coffee,
and a soft voice saying

“Bye… thank you so much.”

But outside

He continued.

Just another man.

Just another day.

And many more days similar like this....

After the Last Train - Part 7

 

The Last Glance

Platform 3 waited quietly.

Kabir reached early.

He checked the clock.
7:38.

He checked his phone.
No message.

7:45.
A train arrived. People rushed. She didn’t step out.

7:52.
He called. It rang. No answer.

“Maybe traffic,” he muttered.

8:05.

Something inside him shifted from hope to mild irritation.

“Fine,” he whispered to himself. “If she doesn’t want to come…”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and began walking out of the station.

The evening felt strangely heavy.

As he crossed the road outside, a small crowd had gathered ahead.

Vehicles were halted.
People were whispering.

He would have walked past.

He almost did.

But something — maybe instinct — made him look.

An auto stood crushed sideways.

And on the road—

A familiar bag.

His steps slowed.

His heartbeat didn’t.

It stopped.

Through the small gap in the crowd, he saw her.

Mira.

Lying still.

Someone was holding her hand.

Her eyes were half-open, searching — unfocused.

Then—

She found him.

Across the chaos.

Across the noise.

Across everything they never said.

For a second, the world went silent.

Her lips trembled.

In pain. In effort.

But she smiled.

Faint. Soft.

And with whatever breath was left, she whispered—

“Bye… thank you so much.”

Not accusing.

Not regretting.

Just grateful.

Her eyes slowly lost her hold on him.

The noise returned.

People moved.

Someone shouted for an ambulance.

But Kabir stood frozen.

Platform 3 was only a few steps behind him.

Yet he had never felt farther from her.

After the Last train - Part 6

 

The Silence That Spoke

Time did not stop.

It simply stretched.

Weeks passed with polite messages.

“Reached?”
“Yes.”
“Work fine?”
“Hmm.”

Words became shorter.

Feelings did not.

Mira had started leaving home earlier than necessary.
She told herself it was to avoid rush hour.

But sometimes, she stood near Platform 3 — just for a minute.

Not waiting.

Just standing.

As if the air there still remembered them.

Kabir had begun taking autos more often, even when buses were easier.

He would sit quietly, watching the side mirror.

Every time the auto driver adjusted it, he remembered how Mira once complained,
“Why do they always drive like they’re in a race?”

He smiled to himself.

Then looked away.

One afternoon, rain came suddenly.

Heavy. Unplanned. Loud.

Mira got stuck outside her office without an umbrella.

She laughed helplessly — because he always carried one.

She almost dialed his number.

Almost.

Instead, she stood under a small shade, letting the rain splash her shoes.

At the same time, miles away, Kabir noticed it was raining.

Without thinking, he checked his phone.

No message.

He locked it again.

Something was changing.

Not love.

Not care.

Just—

The way they held it.

That evening, she finally sent a message:

“Are you free for coffee sometime?”

It was simple.

No hidden meaning.

No dramatic pause.

He stared at it longer than he should have.

Then replied:

“Platform 3?”

She smiled.

“Platform 3.”

It wasn’t about trains anymore.

It wasn’t about convenience.

It wasn’t even about distance.

It was about choosing the same place —

Even after walking separate roads.