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Anuradha Hegde

Uttarakhand - a travelogue

 

The bridge over Old Delhi railway station was empty, relatively speaking. I found an old steel trunk, abandoned by some tired soul, sitting on the bridge. I went for it before anyone else could get at it. Sat for three hours, waiting. Below me, on the platform, was a mass of humanity, seemingly comfortable with each other. The sweeper did a thorough job of cleaning the bridge, then pushed the litter over on the rails.