In spite of what transpired last night, I managed to wake up on time and catch my regular train. I am generally not a sucker for timelines, so I do miss my trains and buses that provide me free transport for a more customised way of living that costs me some dirty cash. Back to the point, I did wake up on time; thought of the events of the past day, managed to get ready and get to my train in time. In the event that I do catch a train, I take this particular one in the morning (which one I won’t tell you; I don’t want people flocking for it and making it crowded) that has considerable seating space and thinking room for every single person who gets on at Nerul. Considering the state of affairs of the Mumbai local trains, this is a stellar achievement. One that is worthy of worldwide acknowledgement. So, I caught this particular train in the morning, which was late by a good 2 minutes. I got into it, and it was way crowded than it ever is. That’s right, a train being 2 minutes late has that kind of an effect to turning a perfectly noteworthy incident to becoming an ordinary one.
Some spaces away from the door, I got my back some rest and I stood silent. The next stop came, some women got in. Another stop came, some more women jumped in. Yet another stop arrived, some more women shoved in. And by the time, it was time for my stop to arrive, I was like a pressed flower in a closet of old gifts. One that was being stamped from all sides with no space to breathe. On the way, I got pushed. I almost got into an argument (which I promptly dropped; I can’t bear to fight in the mornings). A woman gave me a dirty look because I did not budge from my place while she tried her level best to push me into a girl standing next to me. It’s no fun leaning on a girl who doesn’t smell of anything. If it were a good looking guy smelling of, maybe, Davidoff, I might have, might have budged an inch, but not more. When it was time for me to get off, I got down by pissing off quite a few ladies who had acquired the degraded common sense that prevails in local trains which are late. I pushed some because they stood in my way. I kindly asked some to move. And finally, with one lunge I got to my destination.
While I was at all this, the 20 minute ride, had me thinking about my life in the background of my mind. That’s how it all is. There are lots of people. Many shoves. Some kind words. And a destination to get to. You have to hold your own. You can’t take the journey depending on someone to get you in or get you out. Even if you were travelling with someone, they can’t help you get a back rest, or a seat, or help you shove and push around the crowd with your stuff on. You have to do it all alone. The only solace you have in a partner while travelling is someone to talk to, share yourself with, and just…well…be.
That’s what, I think, life is all about. Holding your own stead. If you’ve got a dream destination, you’ve got go get to it yourself. People will help you, but the final plunge? You have to take the final plunge. Your dreams are you. Your journey is you. Your life is you.
So, don’t let anyone change who you are on the journey, because when you’re getting off at a stop, you are all you’ve got. If you lose yourself, chances are you’re going to be left behind in the train; and then you might have to take someone else’s journey.
Life’s not about being someone else. It’s about being yourself. After all,
you don’t get into a train to get off at someone else’s stop.