Platform क्रमांक तीन
It was only after I sat down and made myself comfortable, did it really strike me. The privilege I was carrying around was far from innocuous. The sweatshirt read GAP in bold letters, and underneath it was a salmon-pink H&M shirt. The shoes & socks adorned the sign and brand of Nike, and the final strike below the belt was Levis. A bejewelled NRI. I was in a 3AC compartment of the Indian railways, travelling from Delhi, to Chandigarh on a pleasant Thursday afternoon. It had been a while since I had last commuted via a train in India, and that showed in the lack of expectation and mental preparedness I entered with. The remaining six people around me had humble backgrounds (I could see it in their eyes) and their clothes smelled of simplicity. I at once knew the privileges, and riches I was travelling with, compared to them, and the majority of India. I had forgotten that most people who travelled in trains in India, came from lower-middle-class families, and used this mode ou