It was 6th August, 2016. The time was 9:22 a.m. As I was making my way out of my house, I felt something damp come in contact with my footwear. As it turned out, the rain water had entered the corridor, making the floor slippery. By the time I ended up hailing an auto, the time was 9:25 a.m. The Vile Parle station was bustling with people. Since I was carrying a train pass, I headed straight to the platform where the Churchgate-bound train was supposed to arrive. On reaching the platform, an announcement was made notifying the passengers that the Churchgate-bound train that was scheduled to arrive at platform no. 2 had been diverted to platform no. 6. All hell broke loose when I learned about the change. My mind was filled with thoughts about the situation that would arise if I missed the train. I was already running late, and missing a train would be only adding insult to injury. The train arrived just as I was walking towards platform no. 6, and I ran exhaustively till I got inside one of the compartments. Trust me when I say that in my entire life I've never bothered about anything as much as I did when I had assumed that the train would leave me behind, failing me terribly.
My classes were supposed to start at 10:30 a.m. By the time I boarded the train, it was 9:38 a.m. Upon finding myself a seat in the train, I realised I had forgotten to carry a copy of the news daily I had planned to read during my 45-minute-long train journey. The girl sitting opposite me was immersed in a book; whereas, the woman sitting adjacent to me looked like she was reading some chants from a small book. I, for one, looked like a clueless onlooker. While some of the women sitting in the compartment were chatting away to glory, the rest of them chose to stay glued to their mobiles. I felt static amidst the loud sounds that the running train generated. For someone who had barely traveled in such a cramped fashion, before, everything that happened, around, just added to my perspective. I had heard stories of how train traveling in Mumbai can be an exasperating and tumultuous task. So much so, that the entire train culture can get to you. I am, yet, naive enough to have a say in whether train traveling in Mumbai, as an experience, needs any changes or not; but, one thing that remains sure is that traveling by trains can help explore and experience the finer nuances of the human life like nothing else.
A few minutes into the train journey, a blind man (or at least pretending to be blind) got inside the ladies compartment of the train and indulged into some kind of singing to evoke sympathies from the passengers and con them into shelling out a few bucks. The man looked no more than thirty five years of age and had a lean and tall posture. He held a stick in his hand and stood singing near every row of passengers. Soon, after being unsuccessful in collecting any money, the man stood near the door to make an exit at the next station. After getting out of the compartment, the young man, sliding his hand through the exteriors of the train compartment, got inside the adjoining compartment. He, again, started humming the same song with the hope that he wouldn't be disappointed, once more. Just then, a lame man, who looked like he was in his late twenties, was walking hurriedly towards the train with a crutch and a bag clinging to his back. At this point, I couldn't help but think about how it is not necessarily physical handicap, but our attitude towards life, as humans, that holds far more power to paralyse us and determine what we do with our lives.
As I was getting out of the train, I saw a bunch of passengers waiting to board the train that I had ably managed to get out of. While some people were working professionals, there was a small group of women, accompanied by their children, who looked like they were out on a day long trip; and the kids were gushing about their plans for the day. Also, there was a handful lot of college students who looked ready to get started with their day's routine which was to begin with a train journey from Churchgate and, probably, end with one back to Churchgate. The purpose of traveling of every passenger may be different; but, what what was to remain constant between all of us was our exposure and experience in sharing in the travails of a common man's journey to and from Churchgate.
My classes were supposed to start at 10:30 a.m. By the time I boarded the train, it was 9:38 a.m. Upon finding myself a seat in the train, I realised I had forgotten to carry a copy of the news daily I had planned to read during my 45-minute-long train journey. The girl sitting opposite me was immersed in a book; whereas, the woman sitting adjacent to me looked like she was reading some chants from a small book. I, for one, looked like a clueless onlooker. While some of the women sitting in the compartment were chatting away to glory, the rest of them chose to stay glued to their mobiles. I felt static amidst the loud sounds that the running train generated. For someone who had barely traveled in such a cramped fashion, before, everything that happened, around, just added to my perspective. I had heard stories of how train traveling in Mumbai can be an exasperating and tumultuous task. So much so, that the entire train culture can get to you. I am, yet, naive enough to have a say in whether train traveling in Mumbai, as an experience, needs any changes or not; but, one thing that remains sure is that traveling by trains can help explore and experience the finer nuances of the human life like nothing else.
A few minutes into the train journey, a blind man (or at least pretending to be blind) got inside the ladies compartment of the train and indulged into some kind of singing to evoke sympathies from the passengers and con them into shelling out a few bucks. The man looked no more than thirty five years of age and had a lean and tall posture. He held a stick in his hand and stood singing near every row of passengers. Soon, after being unsuccessful in collecting any money, the man stood near the door to make an exit at the next station. After getting out of the compartment, the young man, sliding his hand through the exteriors of the train compartment, got inside the adjoining compartment. He, again, started humming the same song with the hope that he wouldn't be disappointed, once more. Just then, a lame man, who looked like he was in his late twenties, was walking hurriedly towards the train with a crutch and a bag clinging to his back. At this point, I couldn't help but think about how it is not necessarily physical handicap, but our attitude towards life, as humans, that holds far more power to paralyse us and determine what we do with our lives.
As I was getting out of the train, I saw a bunch of passengers waiting to board the train that I had ably managed to get out of. While some people were working professionals, there was a small group of women, accompanied by their children, who looked like they were out on a day long trip; and the kids were gushing about their plans for the day. Also, there was a handful lot of college students who looked ready to get started with their day's routine which was to begin with a train journey from Churchgate and, probably, end with one back to Churchgate. The purpose of traveling of every passenger may be different; but, what what was to remain constant between all of us was our exposure and experience in sharing in the travails of a common man's journey to and from Churchgate.
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