The second is a foot bridge, though is doesn't discriminate against auto-rickshaws and the odd Ambassador.
The platform is bobbing on what I could very well be unsuccessful submarine archtypes.
Both meet the sandbar, but a full loop I have completed just once; when long walks seemed like the only thing one could ascertain. Otherwise, the good old "boooaaat" wallahs are there to take you one way.
A few days prior to said day of birth, we made the footbridge in a pack of three, but just by sunset.
Having achieved the sandbar, we sat. This photo was taken only moments prior to three dogs attacking one that had a slightly more obvious "I've been skinned" look then the other three. The dogs have no power over me (x3).
We headed into the dark, and hence, an imminent boat ride. Miniature rivers were encountered, which required improvisational crossing techniques due to lack of, yes, bridges. Nothing a lunge can't get around.
Oh, my bridges.
I could argue their diversity as the two sides of India, old and new; but then the rail is older than Independence - and this city I'm in now, Pune:
would profess that no bridge in modern India exists without lamp post like cell phone advertisments tracing its length. She wouldn't let a red iron rail bridge have any say about the New India.
Frankly, I'd listen to anything this bridge had to say.
But no, no; she'd start waving her Airtel phone from her flame embossed leather seated motorbike in front of a "Hyper Bazaar", and that would be it, really.
I'm working on the next train out.
Sadly, this bridge won't be part of it.
But down the ladder from its tracks; as trains burgeon on and snowflake sized debris fall alongside curious liquid; overland reverberations are augmented until fliching has far expended itself.
Yes, this is the perch that very well may be the center of the world.
Fucking brilliant.
A moment to pretend you're walking into oblivion, indeed.
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