jamshedpur

At Tatanagar Station, a Man Who Spoke Through Stone

He sat there, unmoved by the rush of trains at Jamshedpur’s Tatanagar station. His craft lay at his feet, silent like him. His rustic look kept him company long after the train had left.

Our eyes met. His stare was vacant, words few.

But his hands had already spoken. In the carved stone pieces laid before him—each smoothed, shaped, and made to tell a tale. Stories etched in silence, held in the weight of his craft.

Some speak with words. Others let their hands do the talking.

What’s Inside Matters: Lessons from Carton Boxes in Transit

Boxes come in all shapes and sizes. Some travel far, some stay close. They sit shoulder to shoulder, waiting to be sorted at the train station—silent carriers of unknown stories.

A former Indian Prime Minister once wrote a poem titled “Envelope” that went something like this:

“The letter inside is yours
The address on the cover is his
Between the two of you
I get ripped open.”

What’s inside us is far more precious than any address on the outside.

To grow, to evolve, we must let go of old versions of ourselves. We must rip open, just like those envelopes—so that what’s within can reach new places.

The address keeps changing. The journey never stops.

So, go ahead—break open the box. Let the new you emerge.

(at Jamshedpur, Jharkhand)

Poetry. You have just written a poem. It’s simple. All it takes is a piece of paper, a pen that barely writes and a flutter in the mind.
And a poem stares at you.

A few days later you come face to face with a giant factory. Where machines melt metal and products emerge. You talk to some energetic engineers and try going beneath their safety helmets.

You seek answers to several questions in your mind. How did they think up these things? How can brown pieces of metal and a melange of pipes excite the daily day’s arrival? What keeps light in the eyes glowing?

You survey the monstrosity of what they call ‘office’. The scale sends a shiver and creates a flutter.
The flutter brings a realisation : Engineering is poetry with a different name.
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@blogadda @harishk99 @tridibkarmakar @lakshmisharath @vivekvsp @deckle_edge @vamshiavk (at Jamshedpur, Jharkhand)