No one I know ever stopped a train.
I lay my head upon the rail knowing

the train might shortly sever me
from my life, my children, my wife.

I, Rajiv, scrawny, poor man of five-foot-two -- I, Rajiv, the taxi driver, will do it, I who tremble

to step between parked cars; I who fear
a car might back up, cut off my legs, destroy

my livelihood. I will do it not for me. No, I do it to free India from oppression, do you see?

The Mahatma told us we should do such things.
I have heard of the bloody gore of times before,

when the British soldiers tied our men to cannons.
The gods did begin us but the British did dis-limb us!

They forced us to say "Sahib" and grovel before the designated nabobs of the Raj. But -- no longer!

Mahatma says today we are stronger,
the time is right -- but we will not fight.

No one I know ever stopped a train.
Yet, I lay my head down on the rail.

Times Recommends

• When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris
• The Spare Room by Helen Garner
• Is Bertie Wooster the only fish-faced hero?