'TRAINS'FORMATION!

Enveloped in the throng of 'I need to be in time' types, I felt a sudden push from behind making me step forward on the half foot raised platform, even before the brakes hissed and the chugging sound stopped. As I rose up onto this raised platform I couldn't fathom any faces or see the happenings in this new, dark world with daylight entering across its breadth. All I could hear was chaotic rumblings from eclectic sources and languages- some within my ken and some beyond my ken! I, with myriad heads, was set into motion, finally now, not gasping for air and feeling like a sliver patty of meat sandwiched with force coming from all the ends, struggling to keep on feet with all my college paraphernalia. Letting loose, hating the odor, going back and forth with the push, sniffing the pungent hair oils, getting a few strands of hair in nose, once or twice; even worse, was getting close to the sump of sweat of a taller man's armpits; I got drenched in sweat- of my own and of others as well! A thirty minute of second class ride of a local train in peak hours got me all these.

The throng of ''I need to be in time'' types

It's August and there is deficit in rainfall, giving rise to the soaring temperatures and humidity drenching one in one's own sweat. These dry spells are not really dry, at least not in terms of perspiration; at least something is trickling down! It was not my first local ride or first "second class" local ride, it was my first after being enslaved to the extra comfortable life of commuting in a car. I didn't have a car for one week, so had to resort to trains. People, in right senses, even in  first class, dread to take a train in peak hours. Second class is out of question, syllabus or maybe universe!

I don't despise second class or deign people commuting in second class. All I hate is the way one enters it and the way one gets out of it. Y'all will know if you commute through local trains of Mumbai. Even first class, for that matter, in the peak hours. When you get out, the perfectly washed, dried and ironed shirt looks like rewashed, crumpled and half or less tucked-in and those black shoes of yours, for which you polished and brushed it for minutes to be able to see your own reflection, show you the white reality of life- being stomped, discolored and the shapelessness of it, much like your physique!

Whatever be the hardships, it is the fastest means to get to one's destination for me and thousands like me.

The second day arose, still my car wasn't with me and I had no options but the local trains. This time again, I was enveloped in the throng of same types and the experience was pretty much like the same. I grew more immune to it and loathed it a little lesser. Only after  two-three more trips it dawned to me that I actually had started liking it and could see the new lessons taught to me.

Even in that chaotic noises and back aching pushes I was smiling, making way for people, understanding the flow of throng. I grew more mature in the local trains within a few sessions than what i grew in a closed classrooms for all these years, with endless theory bombardment.

I learnt the daily struggle, that every local commuter goes through, from worrying about catching timed local trains, then getting a seat, if not a window-seat, then at least a seat to re-showering again, this time in sweat; getting disheveled, surviving unbearable push and force, the momentum of getting on and off-board.
I learnt the spirit of every individual, whether loathing it or loving it, going through it!
I revived the steel-made SPIRIT that every MUMBAIKAR has!
I learnt and loved it the LOCAL TRAIN"S WAY!
I 'TRAINS'FORMED!