The evening had busied itself up, with unexpected conversations and extended meetings. I swore under my breath sweet nothings. Not the right day for things to go south because I needed to go North to catch the train. I need to do that by suburban (local) trains.
I somehow managed to quell the urgencies and exigencies at work and shut down my computers. Then a quick shower and I got into my traveling outfit. A quick peek at the clock told me that I’m early, and the windows showed a light drizzled threatening to get heavier.
I looked at the note that I had drafted two mornings ago with all my options for the local-train trip. I had four stations as options to catch the local that would take me to the boarding station, but I had to take a local to get to the best two. Considering that I was early, I decided to take a rickshaw to the norther of the two. Technically, this would make things easier because I now only had one local trip to worry about.
The rain was heavier by the time I was dropped off at the station premises. When I walked in, it dawned on me that the lack of familiarity with how things worked at this station might make things difficult. I had to study the station map and updated local training listings to position myself at the best position on the foot over-bridge to keep a watch on the upcoming trains and their platforms.
The trains were running late by about fifteen min, but I hadn’t intended to consider some north-bound trains that were starting from the station. For a long-distance traveler, these would be the best because one would likely find a place to sit. Plus, there would be enough time to get on one with larger suitcases and bags.
Yet, I persisted with the original plan. I had two AC locals as targets. Both would arrive about 15 min apart on different platforms. I decided to go for the first of the two, which was likely to be more crowded and difficult to get into. Because I had never done this (got on such a train at such a time from such a station), I was anxious.
The wait on the platform was excruciating. Each passing moment made me feel like I had chosen wrong—the wrong train and the wrong station.
There were other passengers like me starting their long-distance multi-train journeys, but an actual long-distance train was also listed to arrive at the platform shortly. So I couldn’t make out if many were waiting for that, for the logistics of getting into a packed Mumbai local are vastly different from those for other trains.
When my train pulled in, I tried to look in through the frosted windows on the packed-ness of the train. My heart sank. It looked too packed and with mean office commuters trying to reach home. But when it came to a half and the automatic doors swished open, I was pleasantly surprised to find some space, and I was able to get in and park myself in a location that would not get in the way of too many people trying to get out of the train in the stations before mine.
Thankfully, the train emptied gradually as it made its way North, and I exited at my station without much trouble. But now I was at another unfamiliar station about 2 hours before the arrival of the actual train. The station did not even have a proper waiting area, and there were hundreds of people who had prepared to arrive earlier thanks to the rain, just like me.
Later, I found myself writing to Jay’s friends that the trip to the eventual train was more vexing than anything else. I compared it to a moderately difficult competitive entrance examination. I remembered that had also explained to my therapist that the only way to make this into a pleasant experience would be to gamify the entire commute.
Over most of the next two hours, I had to sit next to an old man who chewed pan and spat right between his legs to the ground. How disgusting! But I also made friends with a cute stray dog and found ogled at a couple of non-spitting older men, who returned the favor. During this time, I managed to catch up with some tech podcasts that needed catching up before the tech got too old.
When the train eventually arrived about twenty minutes late and I boarded the coach, again without much trouble. But I found myself surrounded by relatively annoying passengers. Some talked too loud and some wanted me (a solitary traveler) to move to another compartment because their group had been allocated seats far apart, and what not. I tried to refuse politely and settled into my upper side birth, after having some chicken and egg rolls for dinner.
Despite the glare of the ceiling lights, which weren’t dimmed until midnight, I managed to catch some sleep. Then I woke up, had a quick snack, and got into a new novel that I had been meaning to start. It’s a novel set in Nigeria called My Sister, The Serial Killer.
My sleep was broken and I woke up with a mild headache. The windows rendered the monsoony glory of the coastal Konkan region in all its magnificence. Soon I’d be at my arrival station, and a cab ride from there would get me to Jay and Kali, the dog at our friend’s place.
Engayging Life 