If you thought survival of the fittest was the rule of the jungle and we as human beings have come quite far from there, you should try squeezing yourself into one of the metro coaches at the peak hour. You would consider yourself the luckiest person alive if you are able to come out unscathed.
Trying to commute by the metro during the Puja holidays is by far the most adventurous feat I have achieved. And believe me, that makes me no less an achiever. In the hindsight, I should have taken the winding line in front of the ticket counter as a broad hint of the impending danger, but there are days when the analytical part of your brain just switches itself off. And in any case, I assumed that working during Pujas was the worst curse that could befall anyone. I was obviously wrong.
As the train stopped at the station, my heart skipped a beat and I instantly realised how foolhardy I had been. The coach was full to the brim and if looks could kill, I would have been by then knocking at the Heaven's door going by the way people, who were already jostling for space, looked at me. I was more than thankful to spot a corner where I could fit myself in. The subsequent stations put the flexibility of my body to a tough test. It began with balancing myself on one foot to almost hugging the woman seated in front who was occasionally fulminating strange anathemas at my audacity to pass on almost half of my weight on to her. I have noticed that in a packed train, people who have found themselves a seat and the not-so-lucky get divided into two belligerent camps. At one station, I saw people literally spilling out of the compartment as soon as the gates opened. It still didn't deter some standing outside. They tried to gain an entry almost with a vengeance. The icing on the cake? Armed security men using their rifle butts to push those still hanging out.
Suddenly I realised I needed to shirk off my immobility and approach the gate if I were to get down at the right place even at the cost of displeasing those around me who were beginning to enjoy a new-found comfort in leaning on to others. With little sanction of free will, I stepped on a couple of feet and pulled someone by her hair. However, before I could make my way safely to the door, I got back what I gave. For the first time I cursed my long hair, which I found was holding me back. As I looked back with the most hapless expression, my faith in human kindness was restored. Two women were busy extricating my hair from the evil clutch of the swelling crowd. As the door opened, the train spat me out on the station much to my relief. By then I had sunk into a mental inertia.
Trying to commute by the metro during the Puja holidays is by far the most adventurous feat I have achieved. And believe me, that makes me no less an achiever. In the hindsight, I should have taken the winding line in front of the ticket counter as a broad hint of the impending danger, but there are days when the analytical part of your brain just switches itself off. And in any case, I assumed that working during Pujas was the worst curse that could befall anyone. I was obviously wrong.
As the train stopped at the station, my heart skipped a beat and I instantly realised how foolhardy I had been. The coach was full to the brim and if looks could kill, I would have been by then knocking at the Heaven's door going by the way people, who were already jostling for space, looked at me. I was more than thankful to spot a corner where I could fit myself in. The subsequent stations put the flexibility of my body to a tough test. It began with balancing myself on one foot to almost hugging the woman seated in front who was occasionally fulminating strange anathemas at my audacity to pass on almost half of my weight on to her. I have noticed that in a packed train, people who have found themselves a seat and the not-so-lucky get divided into two belligerent camps. At one station, I saw people literally spilling out of the compartment as soon as the gates opened. It still didn't deter some standing outside. They tried to gain an entry almost with a vengeance. The icing on the cake? Armed security men using their rifle butts to push those still hanging out.
Suddenly I realised I needed to shirk off my immobility and approach the gate if I were to get down at the right place even at the cost of displeasing those around me who were beginning to enjoy a new-found comfort in leaning on to others. With little sanction of free will, I stepped on a couple of feet and pulled someone by her hair. However, before I could make my way safely to the door, I got back what I gave. For the first time I cursed my long hair, which I found was holding me back. As I looked back with the most hapless expression, my faith in human kindness was restored. Two women were busy extricating my hair from the evil clutch of the swelling crowd. As the door opened, the train spat me out on the station much to my relief. By then I had sunk into a mental inertia.
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