Borivali Fast

8.44. It is not the time. It is a train – Borivali fast, will not halt between Bandra and Andheri. Previous train was a Virar fast. Which is why there were a few people on the roof. But the Borivali train would be better, I hope.

8.50. The 8.44 train is just entering. People on the platform with bated breath, waiting in position for the slight opening in the door (what with four people hanging onto the door!), just enough to squeeze one’s way in. Before the train stops the people are already funneling in through the anorexic opening of the door.

8.51. Feeling like a sardine. People seem to be pushing and pulling in all directions. Some groan. Somebody at the door yells.

8.55. Hands outstretched, facing left and with my legs making an obtuse angle (How did I do that?). Everyone has finally settled down. Feels like cattle now. Or may be it’s just the grass that looks greener!

8.58. Andheri. Quite a few people add to the herd. And a few more degrees of freedom are added to my physics defying flexibility. Nadia Comaneci here I come!

9.10. Malad. Mass exodus followed by mass influx. But it’s getting better. I even can see some part of my little toe.

9.11. The train steps out of Malad station and stops dead in its tracks. Literally! There is a bit of commotion at the door. And suddenly people moved closer to each other and the sea of humanity parted. But instead of Moses I saw a small man, barefoot, wearing shorts and a shirt with “WR” printed on it, jump in. Within a flash he turned his back to me and pulled up a stretcher, with two more of his colleagues helping him. As the train started moving the three men sat around the stretcher.

9.12. The man on the stretcher is injured badly. His shirt and trousers are torn. His shoes are off and a blood soaked sock is tied to his left leg. His face is crimson with a mixture of blood and sweat. His lips are parted and I can see the blood all over his teeth. It’s still 9.12. His lips open wider and his head rises a little bit as he gasps for breath. It’s still 9.12. He’s still again. And another violent gasp. Its still 9.12 – how long is this minute going to last?

9.13. The three laborers are discussing their wages. ‘Even this stretcher counts’, said one. One more breath of air. Another shudder. But nobody seems to notice.

9.14. The train enters Kandivali. ‘Don’t step across the body. Go around’, yells someone. Two people go around it. The others just step across. After all it’s only a 17 second halt. Life goes on. Or did it?