The Last Train Home

A vast, lonely platform under cold overhead lights. A flickering sign buzzes above a BENCH. Beyond the tracks, the city lights blur into the distance.

On the bench sits ANITA (50s), an overworked nurse. Simple coat over scrubs, practical shoes, hair loosely tied back, tired eyes. A tote bag rests beside her. A thermos. A crumpled train ticket. Her hospital ID badge still hangs from her coat.

She stares at the tracks. Breathes in the cold.

Train bhi chali gayi...

She looks at the ticket, then at the empty platform.

Aaj mera rare day off tha.

Aur main...

main phir se late.

She gives a small, tired laugh that almost becomes a sigh.

Hospital mein log bolte hain,

"Nurse ho na, tum toh sambhal logi."

She touches her ID badge.

Haan. Sambhal leti hoon.

Pulse, BP, IV line, fever, pain,

rona, ghabrahat, darr...

sab.

Beat.

Par apna kya?

She opens the thermos, takes a sip. It’s cold. She closes it again.

Chai thandi ho gayi.

Jaise main.

She looks down, ashamed of the joke, then continues.

Main ne itne saalon mein

bahut kam roka.

Bahut kam bola.

Bahut kam maanga.

She glances toward the dark tracks.

Sabke liye maa ban gayi,

behan ban gayi,

didi ban gayi,

family ban gayi.

A beat.

Kyuki asli family ke saamne

baithna mushkil ho gaya tha.

She shifts on the bench, uncomfortable with the truth.

Ghar jaati thi toh...

khamoshi milti thi.

Aur khamoshi mein

apni hi kami sunai deti thi.

She takes out her phone.

On screen: DAUGHTER.

She stares at the name.

Meri beti.

A long pause.

Call miss kiya,

message late kiya,

phir aur late,

phir bas...

silence.

She swallows hard.

Main bolti thi, shift thi.

Duty thi.

Emergency thi.

She laughs softly, painfully.

Sach yeh hai...

main darrti thi.

She looks up, eyes wet now.

Akeli hone se darrti thi.

Beat.

Apni hi awaaz sunne se darrti thi.

The platform hums with fluorescent buzz. The sign flickers.

Isliye dusron ke dard mein

khud ko daba deti thi.

She presses the phone tighter in her hand.

Jab koi rota tha na,

main unka haath pakad leti thi.

She mimics the gesture in the air.

Kyunki kisi ka haath pakadna

asaan hota hai...

apna haath pakadna nahi.

A tear slips out. She lets it.

Main tumhari maa hoon,

par main bhi...

thak gayi hoon.

She looks at the daughter’s name again.

Aur shayad...

main tumhe miss bhi karti hoon.

She hesitates. Then scrolls. Her thumb hovers over CALL.

Agar main call nahi karungi na,

toh shayad phir kabhi nahi kar paungi.

She takes a breath.

Toh kar rahi hoon.

She hits CALL.

Phone rings. One ring. Two.

Haan, main hi hoon.

She listens. We do not hear the other side.

Main sorry bolne ke liye nahi...

Beat.

Sach bolne ke liye call kiya hai.

Her voice steadies.

Main thak gayi hoon.

Main darr gayi hoon.

Aur main tumhe...

bahut miss karti hoon.

She closes her eyes, tears on her cheeks.

Main sabko family ki tarah treat karti rahi...

kyunki mujhe darr tha

ki agar main apni family ko

sach mein feel karungi,

toh main toot jaungi.

She opens her eyes.

Par ab lagta hai...

tootna bhi theek hai.

Agar uske baad ghar mil jaaye.

A distant TRAIN HORN sounds.

Anita looks down the tracks. Then at her ticket. Then at her badge.

Hospital ID mere paas hai.

Ticket bhi.

She smiles through tears.

Par aaj pehli baar...

main khud ko bhi saath le ja rahi hoon.

She listens to the phone, nodding slightly.

Haan...

Main aa rahi hoon.

Aur is baar,

sach mein.

The flickering sign glows once, steadies for a moment.

Anita sits there, no longer empty.