I am going to hills of Darjeeling again

A very special thanks to Nabin Kumar Chhetri for his excellent submission to Voices and the competition. Here is a short biography about Nabin:
Nabin Kumar Chhetri is a Nepalese poet. He is a member of Scottish PEN. He graduated with a degree of M. St in Creative Writing from Oxford University and has also graduated with a degree of M.Litt in the Novel from the University of Aberdeen.
He is recognized by the Scottish Book Trust:
http://www.scottishbooktrust.com/profile-author/122275
His poetry has been published eighty national and international journals. He lives in Scotland with his wife and two children. Further information can be had at www.nabinkchhetri.com
THE WAIT
I sat beside you
when we went to Darjeeling.
I must have been nine then.
–
I would sit by the glass window
and watch the landscape shift
on the tinted glass pane.
–
At Kurseong, the bus would stop
the old train station would show up
through a haze of mist
the smell of burnt coal would warm my nostrils.
–
You would get off, to buy something
my eyes would follow you through the crowd
and as soon as you disappeared, my heart would skip a beat
and when you would reappear again, life would return.
–
The bus driver would come
he would roar the accelerator; On and Off
a column of black smoke would rush out
and when he blew the horn
my eyes searched from one face to the other
until I would see you
running with a packet of biscuit in one hand
and a bottle of water on the next.
–
On the way uphill, I would vomit
you would wipe my mouth with your handkerchief
give me water and an avomine tablet
I would rest on your shoulder and sleep.
–
Thirty years have passed by
I am going to hills of Darjeeling again
I sit by the window
a stranger, rests next to me
The wind moans through the glass chink.
At Kurseong, the bus slows down to a low throttle
beside the same train station
It hisses and comes to a halt. I do not want to go out.
And it feels like nothing has changed;
the rush, the smell of coal and the faces of the people.
The driver comes back, pushes the accelerator, blows the horn.
I look at the crowd. The mist curls up and lazily cover the town.
–
I feel like I am waiting for you again.
Nabin Kumar Chhetri
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