No one there !
Desolate rail yards are seen everywhere!
Ever busy coaching locos or EMUs
Standing dead still
Under the black canopies of the yards.
The lifeless lives were
Lying motionless in the graveyards.
We did it. We have to do it!
Like angels, we, the Fright Loco Pilots
Float on the rails.
We run forever;
We circuit the lifeline
Of the land of our forefathers.
No one there!
No village vendors walking
Along the side of the track
In the wee-hours of the morning.
No office goers
At the peak hours of a busy day.
No pupil anywhere
Hanging long bags on their shoulders
Along their school way.
No sight of any babies jumping
On their mothers on either of the sides
When the big sun inclines.
No scene of blossoming lovers
Smiling at each other.
No Gangman, no Trackman,
No signal exchange from offsides.
No one there!
But the Loco Pilots run through graveyards!
Nothing can stop the running staff.
Isolation everywhere!
Only we bind the country one point to another.
The world is on hold.
The country is on hold.
The time & the Loco Pilots pass by.