Life in a Metro!

Tring Tring.. 7 am - the alarm goes on. Wake up, its Monday morning again, need to get ready for office. A common story in every household. Mondays are always tagged as gloomy days, the commencement of an entire working week. For those unfortunate ones like me, who need to travel in a public transport to punch their office ID cards on time, it is even more painful. Thanks to the Metro Railways in Kolkata which takes about 12 minutes for me to reach the nearest metro station to my office. But bet you, these 12 minutes make the most adventurous part of my day. This is not a Bollywood film but the real 'life in a metro'.

Getting down from the rickshaw, it is my religious practice to run to the metro station or else be late. To the astonishment of many pedestrians on road, this well dressed young lad with a bag on his shoulder seems to be running for his life, edging every one coming his way. Make way for this ruthlessly time-pressed creature. Moving through the big cue, I manage to get right on time. The metro arrives. I know exactly where to stand so that I am right in front of a door while getting up and right near the stairs at the destination stop. Like many other daily passengers, I throw myself into the over crowded metro and the rest is taken care of by the crowd itself. No need to hold anything, I am just about pressed from all possible sides. Cursing the railway minister for such an infrastructure, I start my journey. All male passengers literally sticking to each other such that a Westerner would call them a bunch of gays. Perspiring, stinking yet blabbering. Those privileged of not having a bag find it their favorite pass time to advise those with a bag. If they have it hung to their back, they should hang it by their chest just like carrying a baby and those who are already 'carrying a baby', must carry it in their hands. The debate goes on. I could feel every breath of the passengers next to me. I feel claustrophobic.

Stops after stops, the pressure doubles itself, but the enthusiasm of my fellow passengers does not cease. Nudging and edging they find space out of no-space. Like typical Kolkatans, they start discussing politics which soon turns out to be a chaotic argument. Some giggling at them while others commenting "Bar kore de train theke" (meaning "Get them out of the train"). Suddenly, I find someone vertically challenged hanging by my arms thinking it to be the nearest thing to cling on to. No complaints. Adjustments of every kind seems the best solution. But hey, it isn't smelling good. Has the pressure compelled somebody to release? Can you really adjust with that? Sigh!

And finally, the next stop is where I would get down. Pushing through the crowd again, I make way to the door, competing to be the first one to get down. The contest continues till the point I punch out of the metro station. My well ironed shirt resembles potato crisps. Up to the roads again, sensing the breeze, I feel like I am freed of imprisonment after long years. But I can't rest. The office bells are ringing. Rush!