The banging on the heavy metal door, forceful enough to make horrific sounds similar to the one of forcible entry by dacoits in the daylight or the dreary sound emerging out of General Dyers' army's sudden invasion on the meak crowd assembled on the fateful day of 13April 1919, awakens u from your deep thoughts. Then u realise, it is Kurla and u are travelling in the age old, comfort deprived, ever crowded like the hordes of cattle falling on each other, local train of Mumbai. This has been my second home for the past two months. First one, of ourse is my office with never ending working hours and ever piling new assignments. And the third home, do i need to tell u? Anyways it is a place where i sleep in the night and do my morning chores and in the process also get to see and sometimes meet them who can at best be addressed as my flat mates and at worst my wife and two children. The life which i have chosen to live is entirely different from what actually I wanted to lead. Coming back to local trains, these have been official transporter of strugglers belonging to various fields. Losers is not the right word as only 50% of them only loses everytime a train arrives i.e. Those who fail to garner a seat for themselves,probably getting a seat here is more difficult than getting a ticket from BJP in Gujarat. The other half who fail to get a seat are faced with a decision dilemma as it happens in any of the life's other crucial situations. He thinks whether he shud wait forthe next train and take his chances with whatever energy is left within or board the train and get the unavoidable but painful message ( u read it right.its not pain relieving) from copassengers.
This is the brief snapshot of my new life. Soon i will be back with more tidbits. Keep on reading and smiling; the purpose for which this precious life has been endowed upon us.
