In her head, the train whistled on like a happy song-bird.
In her head, the starry night was flagged onto the speeding window-rails in knots that swore to come undone in a flash,
but never did.
In her head, the butter-moon sky was a tye-and-dye kurta she might have have picked out with curious love.
In her head, loose crumbs of Bollywood songs and Biskfram biscuits fell from the bunk onto the rattling passageway.
In her head, the passageway sat rapt in wonder at the noisy choir of voices that ricocheted off it's metal bones and into the 60kmph air.
In her head, the hills were that much closer.
In her head, the snow that had melt away sometime last year
was still the warmest blanket on a travel-bag night.
In her head -
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