i was watching this documentary on steam trains in india on the national geographic channel just now. can u believe it? i was tearing. i would've wept out loud but my dad was sitting next to me. it was just a documentary after all. but it was so beautiful. the steam trains. it was a way of life. it was so sad to see some stations being closed down and some trains being auctioned off as the lives of steam trains and stations came to a conclusion. they became condemned. yes, that was the word used. it was sad to see how such a vital and large part of the lives of many people had been taken away, shut down, because of the end of the reign of the steam train era.

a man was interviewed. he looked so sad. he said, while watching a train being dismantled infront of him, that "it was like watching his son or daughter or a closed loved one being cut up into pieces and yet not being able to do anything about it but stand there and watch". he talked about the music of the trains and even attempted to immitate the noises. he talked about how he feels all alone now. as people get on with their lives, a huge part of him stands desolate, with those abandoned trains, now worth only for their scrap metal prices. i felt sad gazing upon the faces of the station master, of the men of steel who fed the train its fuel and ran it, of the widow who worked in the station since her husband committed suicide, having not been promoted. i felt something warm rise in me as i saw the little village children chasing the trains. i was amused at the way people crossed the tracks like they do on the busy roads in serangoon road in singapore even as the oncoming train was less than 8 metres away. only one steam train has been preserved in india so far. the himalayan princess or something like that. i hope to be able to go on that adventure one day.

my dad's eyes were as transfixed to the screen as mine was. he had spent a few years of his childhood in india. he had jumped on and off the trains as they were moving, like those people in the documentary. he had been there. the pondicherri express. those train stations. maybe not the exact ones on the documentary. but it was close enough. i don't know about you, but for me, it's tragic to see something fall apart, to see it being left aside to rot away and disintegrate. the song little earthquakes by tori amos comes to mind at this point.

i want to buy this $4000over keyboard(music). it's really neat. alot of functions. a floppy disk drive. and it just looks awesome. i want it. i want it. i want it. i'm in love. aaaah. i do have an electric organ but it's really old. and i can't carry it to the computer to record my songs. someone give it to me. now! =P

spent the afternoon writing vday notes (only 3) after i came home. next thing i know i was dead to the world. on my bed. all it took to put me there was a few pages of my chem notes. i only awoke at about 8 for dinner. and was glued to the telly by the tale of the trains. then i took my doggie for a walkie and he was so naughty so i shortened his walk. not like he cared. the lazy bugger. who's always jumping to go for a walk and gets tired after 10 min of it. silly reno.

i've got to finish my chem assignment. and organic chem. or part of it. the formula for a sleep-inducing drug.