I learnt what joy meant, looking at those kids. I crossed them everyday. The tracks rattled announcing the train’s arrivals. The stones wobbled, frightened. The engine’s screech could be heard from miles apart. That’s when they came out running. In torn clothes, runny noses, bruised knees, brightest of smiles and waved excitedly at us with their muddy hands. Their torn plastic house didn’t bother them. All it took for them to flash their precious smiles, was the nine coach train that passed their house everyday. 


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