A sea of people, bobbing heads appear and disappear; tall
ones shadow the short ones, footsteps like clockwork and train timetables
mechanically make their way to a place called home. Rush hour at any railway
platform in Bombay feels the same. What happens after these people leave? Like
little rocks that are exposed after a wave recedes, you’ll see people in pairs
on lesser crowded corners or spaces of bridges, foot over bridges and
platforms. These pairs are often seen engaged in intimate conversations,
holding hands, embracing and sometimes even planting a little peck;
obviously avoiding the authorities’ watchful eyes. Bombay is a city of endless
possibilities, take about a million people chasing their endless possibilities,
seizing the day whilst travelling to and fro by local trains. What time does it
leave for one to write a sonnet to your beloved? What it does leave time for is
the time spent waiting for a train, between catching connecting trains or
probably taking the train home together. Code names for spots are made up, ‘bridge ke neeche’, ‘first dabba’, ‘sky-walk
wale seedhi ke neeche’ each of these and their likes easily crawl their way into the daily
language of the couples in-transit. This is the story of those few thousand
couples in Bombay.
On my way back from work I often spot couples and smile
inwardly while aunties shoot looks ranging from surprise to rage and even
disgust at these love-birds accompanied by concerned sounding clicking of their
tongues and head shakes. But the lovers, nonchalant to these reactions, find
comfort in the touch and sight of their beloved. The noise, the smells and the
hurry in the background find no signs of ceasing to exist. The comfort that
they find in their significant other (temporarily or otherwise) after a long
tiring day is all that they seek. For that instant they forget how their boss yelled at them or the
dishes they have to do once they get home.
While most of these
interactions are often all-smiles, there are a few that are laced with
arguments and breakdowns. Do not be alarmed if you find a girl sobbing or slyly
wiping away an unsteady flow of tears with her rolled up handkerchief, the boy
is often a helpless bystander who offers her comfort through his handkerchief
or a squeeze to her shoulder. Then comes
the part where one is seeing the other off, a quick hug, a smile, enthusiastic
waving good-bye and the hope of seeing each other the next day.
For couples who travel together, the story is a little
different. The journey is complimented by sharing a pair of earphones and
listening to music or catching up on sleep with a short nap resting their head
on the other’s shoulder. ‘Accidental’ touching is a given. The rest of the
journey is full of story-telling or a constant silence interrupted by pieces of
conversation between the couple. This little rendezvous blossoms under watchful
eyes of the Uncles, Aunties and families traveling in the same compartment. Four
years ago I gasped when I had spotted a lesbian couple on a train conspicuously
in love, holding hands. Today, I think back to that time and smile. Local
trains and their paraphernalia let you love without prejudices, atleast the
graffiti inside some trains says so. I’m
no creepy stalker, just in-transit a lot.
Maybe, I’ll meet you someday, on platform number one, first class-
middle compartment.
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