The Railway Platform

Sitting on the cold, rusted blackish-brown iron bench. Clean hands resting on the side arms. The unbearable foul smell of sweat stinking from the passersby. Gyrating noise of the churning fans from the aluminum ceiling. The dusty winds blowing harshly across the cheeks hurting the nose and eyes. The head- ripping noise of the approaching train halting with a big jerk almost shaking the place like a mild tremor. People around getting up and running towards the train, struggling to get a place in the bogies. Others pushing them from inside to move out to the platform. Very few getting in and even less moving out. The shouts from a nearby Chhotu calling all for his Special cutting chai, the crying of Guddu in the arms of his mother asking for a Spider Man. Mickey and Bunty running around with their sarkari father chasing them. Old, weak Sharmaji with his even weaker wife struggling to climb the stairs of the overhead bridge. A Laxmi begging with Kalu in her arms and a two year old Kuber holding her tattered saree. Vicky, Adarsh and Tarun, teenagers on a magazine stall trying to steal a glimpse of “The Sutra”. Reena, Aisha, Kiran and Jyoti, a bunch of college girls on a trip giggling at the “Studs” showing off their newly acquired adulthood. The Shri Shri 1008 in impeccable saffron,  upholding the sanctity of humanity slyly checking the “Firang” Rebecca and Catherine. Not so straight  Neta ji  in white crisp spotless Khadi kurta with folded hands charming the voters from the door. The potters Ganpati and Neel, negotiating with Sheela and Sharda, Aunties for another 20 bucks. The thirteen something Reena feeling coy looking at “The Baby Doll” poster on the side walls by mistake. The naughty Nattu impishly smiling at understanding the lyrics of “The Kunwari Ladki” song being played in a Samosa-Pakora shop. Some Amir Chand sweeping the floor and spilling the leaves even more. Ram and Yudhishtar bellowing circles of smoke secretly behind the shed. Sita and Draupadi busy applying layers of pancake in the washroom. The train departs and another approaches.

Sitting on the warm, rusted grayish iron bench with the not-so-clean hands now not resting on the side arms. The smell becoming even more obnoxious. Me, anxious, lonely still there, waiting for some more adventure from another Kanika, Sanya, Rithik or Sid or even Life as Life and people never fail to entertain…!