Image result for crowded mumbai local train art

With an air of pride and a questionable motive , i walked on the busy platform after procuring my very own Class I ticket from Vile Parle to Lower Parel.
It was all the same, same as yesterday, as the day before- the same filtered sunshine, shrunken brows and affable faces. However this mundane day was tweaked a bit as i held a railway pass which i bought for a formidable 490 Rs.
I held it firmly speculating the situations where i might end up loosing it, so i anxiously  folded it and kept it in my leather wallet. As soon as i realised that it was safe, it gave me a sense of pride, a feeling of achievement and self satisfaction . This satisfaction was not the result of travelling in a less crowded compartment but being able to enter a serene place where i have never stepped into. Suddenly everything started feeling novel and it kickstarted my excitement to observe every action and every emotion.
As soon as my trained honked accross the platform , i ran against the direction of the daily bourgeois , to reach my Class I door marked with special red and yellow stripes, tainted with rust and corroded metal sheets.

Unlike my serene and subtle imagination my entry into the expected royalty was not so satisfactory , bustling accross and being pushed into a mass of heavy men leaning against each other i was forced to stand in a position not very known to my usual body structure.However i managed to space out myself into breathing and allowing myself to analyse , examine and understand the newness of this royal manifestation.

It was distinctively different from my past experiences yet there was a fine line that could have been drawn between the two situations.
Unlike the usual men who wore unfit shirts , the class apart travellers wore neatly tucked in shirts , creased at the right places with round blots of sweat around armpits. Their trousers were of singular colour and bore no remarks of any rugged experience apart from what they were experiencing now.

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Used to the pungent , stale odour of exhausted men trying to fight their way to their jobs, here the natural odour was adulterated with deoderants and perfumes convincing me of my extravagant expenditure.
In this mansion of luxury and exclusivity i could keep my hands of my pocket without fear of getting my phone or wallet being snatched, though my assumption was backed by no real facts or previously deduced inferences.
I could see those heavy men trying to maintain as much distance as they could from each other, avoiding any possible chance of contaminating themselves with the touch of other similar looking humans, these were the Indian whites to the browns.
They would always apologies and shift sides while making their way out, dispensing out words of wisdom through the microphone attached to their i- phones.
A few would also carry old age english novels , folded within their palms continuously telling themselves about their living sense of intellectualism.
All of this happening in between the jam packed railway compartment with unfathomable fragrance tied up with a sense of unparalled haste , bullied by the abstinence of a favourable and joyful life, Simply put this class apart would still give each one of us a sense of exclusivity which we crave all our lives, it gave the men the immense satisfaction of being special which not even their wives consider them anymore.

Each day they would give up their feeling of distress and exasperation and stand in the less crowded area of the platform , enjoying the pleasure of royalty  while being subjected to the tyranny of their own misjudgement.

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4 thoughts on “A Class Apart

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