a commuter's narrative

as the morning matures, trains get more crowded. people hustling and bustling, pushing poking and doing all sorts of ungodly things just to get off or to board the train. everytime i have to do the same, i feel like quitting my job. the other day i was wondering how utterly dependent we all are on the train. my office is light years away. taking the road in not even an option. even if i had all the time in the world for it, i know i still wouldnt reach.
and mind you my dear lads n ladies, my office is in the mainstream commercial area. i dont even have to change trains! how lucky!!
what i cannot avoid is wondering whether i am going to die of a blast this particluar evening, whether that woman who just pushed her armpits into my face has ever had a bath, or whether my liver will pop out of my mouth due to all the pushing and squeezing in the compartment. i still prefer travelling by first class even tho the pushing and pulling is all the same everywhere. at least i know if i am abused i would understand and if i abuse the receiver will also understand. yes, i admit it i can only abuse in english.
another fact about trains : the fast trains always run slower than the slow trains.
if you are planning to buy a phone you must travel in the first class ladies compartment. in a compartment where there is no place to breathe, you will find all sorts of women; pretty ugly, fat, thin...with fancy phones talking to god-knows-who at that time in the morning. i never rem chatting on the phone at 9 in the morning. its just not usual. and there is always the pathetic radio that everysome loves to listen to. i tried once and realized that for ten mins some man went on ranting to the rj for the whole 10 mins about how he loves the channel, and how he loves his lfie and how he loves blah shah and the rj kept replying "hmm...hmm...hmm" and then he played the most outrageous bollywood song ever. so i waited all 10 mins for that song. i felt terribly wronged but there is no tribunal for such crimes.
and then there are what i call my train musings. today i observed the inconspicuous Hercules (if there was only a plural word for it) of our city and like ours in all other cities everywhere.
i see men gymming away a good part of their lives to lift nothing more than a glass of carrot juice or their size-zero women on steamy nights. and then i see vegetable vendors with their wares travelling in these crowded trains where people literally stand on top of each other. for some peculiar reason people do not let you get off the trains and they dont let you board. and in that process today i saw this fruit vendor with his basket of chikoos getting off. His basket fell with a thud on the platform, his chikoos rolling away in various directions. people stamped over and the chikoos bled their sweet juice. in his situation, i would have wailed and curse all our 108 gods, but he simple looked away. he stood there for a minute to let the train pass and then he collected the ones that were still alive. a man in his crisp white shirt and ironed trousers picked up some the chikoos and handed it over. he even bought some. whether he bought coz he just wanted to have chikoos this morning or because it was his good deed of the day i dont know. i believe it was the latter. he was a good man. i could see the vendor fighting the disgust inside. his was a distraught; arresting face. he didnt want this life and he didnt want to do this. some other lady came up, but i knew she really wanted to eat the chikoos. she picked and squeezed each chikoo till she found the ripe ones. maybe she even bargained. i wouldnt know coz i was standing at a distance watching him and feeling sad. his hands were rugged and his viens bulged dangerously all along his arm. his tension was carried from the darkest corners of his brain to every single cell all over his body.
but that is how life is, in one and a half seconds my train came by and i was lost trying to poke and pinch my way into the train. i left Hercules standing at the platform and carried with me only admiration that i am now finally pouring out.