बारिश

I've visited Mumbai twice in the last month, for reasons starkly different, yet similar. But the backstory is for another time. Hopefully, there is another time. This time around, I decided to take a train from Pune, the 7:15AM Deccan Queen that people across generations have backed their livelihood on. I, on the other hand, was treating it as leisure, and was merely excited by the prospect of being in a train after years. 

I had taken a flight the previous day, and thanks to the CrowdStrike fiasco, I spent a good nine-and-a-half-hours in transit. This, along with the early morning wake-up-call to catch the train, meant that I was on reserves. The train set afoot, and I slept, or rather tried to. But when have my sleeping instincts ever come in handy? 

I accepted that my eyes would be open. Would I be awake, I didn't know yet. Initially, my eyes locked horns with the make-shift houses that were somehow still standing tall in this heavy downpour. The train soon caught speed, and almost out of nowhere, we were greeted with lush green fields. I sat-up straight, it was involuntary. Just as I was thinking that I could get used to this sight, a waterfall buzzed past the train. We were in valley territory now. I stood-up and went to the space between the train bogeys, hoping to get an unobstructed view through the open train doors. And I did. I remember thinking, and more importantly feeling that this is unabashedly one of the prettiest train rides I've ever taken. Waterfalls were a hand's distance away, magnanimous in nature too. There was an overlay of mist throughout, and now, finally, I was awake.

If you've ever taken a train in India, you'd be aware that the space between the bogeys is where the washrooms are located. It’s also the place where people without a reservation make themselves home. It's not the cleanest place, but gets the job done of translocating people to their destination. As I stood there, taking in the holy sight of the waterfalls, mind you, there were two couples, a few generations apart, standing there without a valid ticket. They didn’t know each other, I could tell. I could also tell that they weren’t well off, but rather poor. There were telltale signs. The train stopped at and crossed Lonavala, the land of chikkis among other things, and a hawker found himself onboard trying to sell this delicacy. The older gentleman bought a packet. But before he, or his wife ate a single bite, he walked up to the other unreserved passenger couple and offered them a handful. It was touching, at the very least. I have enough to be grateful in life, and means to support my family, and me, if not more, but how often have I willingly shared “my” things? And yet, it was here, in the unreserved section near the washroom, that I was shown my place.

The train was supposed to stop at Dadar, where my friend from Andheri was supposed to receive me. But a late night meant that she wouldn’t make it in time to greet me. I was on my own, but little did I know what lay ahead of me. I initially considered taking a cab, but one draws the line when it’s a 50min cab ride as against a 20min train ride. I got a series of succinct instructions from my friend. Download the train app, and book a paper ticket. Turns out one can’t get a paperless version of the ticket if you’re already on the station to prevent people from booking tickets when they see the police. Well played India, well played Jugaad. I got out of the train, and heavy rains greeted me, and all of us. There was an overhead roof, atleast at the moment. Every 100 meters, I reconfirmed the direction to the local train platform. Everyone was sweet, everyone was helpful, and yet somehow everyone was in a hurry. I felt alive. I walked, the way I was directed to, only to reach a crossing where there was no roof. The rain was still on though, heavy as well. Took half a minute to take out the umbrella from my bag, and along with a few 100 others, our umbrellas touching each other, we walked through a puddle, to the other side. It was cute, it was new, it was chaotic. I was loving this! 

I made my way to the platform finally, and now I had to print the ticket I had booked online. There was a kiosk, and I simply entered my mobile number, and a smooth crisp paper made it’s way out. There was still so much system in all this chaos. 

This is the India I was missing when I was in the States. This is the India where I feel alive, and well, awake :)