[心得] In the MRT Coach

[viotar (我一定可以)]

    Slumbers galore. Though mostly nodding in the similar way, these
passengers prove to be sleepers from different background. Some prop their
head upon their hand in the gesture of a philosopher; some cross their hands
together and rest them upon the thigh, with their head lowering down, in a
meditation posture that is much like a Buddhist monk; and some just
comfortably spread-eagle themselves, snoring thunderingly loud-- quite making
themselves at home.
    Of course, some people like me are wide-awake. Three children,
unrestricted by their parents, seem to play hide-and-seek happily, taking
the other passengers, willy-nilly, as pillars for hiding. Reluctant to join
their game, I step aside, deliberately exposing the two naughty "prey" to
the hunter. Right beside me stand two loud speakers, utterly unaware of the
sound sleepers (so are they!) around. One, presumably an American, speaks
fluent, yet somewhat pointless, English in a sentimental coarse tone, and his
interlocutor, apprently a Taiwanese, replies frequently with almost the same
monosyllabic answer: yeah.
    To get away from the hubbub within, I turn my head aside, looking out
through the rain-streaked window. Outside the MRT coach quietly lies a scene,
more precisely, a scene sharply contrasting the inside. It holds me in awe:
mountains, near and far, are dotted with countless tombs, and the emerald
slope is densely populated with motley graves-- here, there, and everywhere.
At this very moment, I find myself stuck between two worlds which in a sense
belong to the same circle.... I can's help associating the rushing MRT cabin
with the life train that is always in a headlong dash forward; we passengers
upon it sometimes just have not too much choice of where to go, so readiness
is often the all.
    Slowly, the MRT train pulls in. The tetrilingual broadcast awakes even the
amazlingly undisturbed slumbers and galvanizes everyone into action. Suddenly,
all kinds of noises-- children's excited scream, tedious whistle, cell-phone
buzzings....-- all come flooding to me. Plunged back into the real world, I
cease my mediation, armor myself up, and elbow my way through the hustle and
bustle.

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