Sweaty brows have returned. It is 745 am and the sun is beating down upon my brow. I look to the north but there is no sign of the train. 747 Churchgate AC local is delayed. What do you make of this? Monday morning troubles begin with a delayed train. Once inside I find myself seated in between a group of fellow passengers. Everyone knows everyone. Except me. They resent me because now one of their group members has to stand. They discuss modaks and chaklis. Apparently it’s a big business. I wouldn’t know. I am busy listening to the seen and unseen. Amit Verma talks for four hours. I don’t know how he manages that every week without getting tired.
The day has passed in a blur. There is so much going on. But that’s alright. Tomorrow is Gudi Padwa. As kids we would say happy gudi padwa and add neet bol gadwa – say it correctly donkey. What silliness. But raising a gudi is not our tradition. Though eating shrikhand puri is.
The number of items one can make of dairy products is mind-boggling. It is evening again. The sun is done for the day, but a warm breeze is blowing. I find it hard to stand inside the compartment. The door is empty, just another adventure seeker at the door. I join him at the footboard.
The footboard is a magical place. The wind that blows is warm and not anything like the pleasant morning breeze. But it is still welcome. The world passes by slowly. The parle factory, now silent and defunct. No aroma wafting through. Buildings and huts stand abutting the tracks. St Thomas Church at Goregaon, the ex-Directiplex building which meant something once upon a time to the broken down govt. Quarters of Jogeshwari. The steel and glass of Goregaon and the tabelas of Jawahar Nagar. A lot passes as you stand at the door. A punishable offence, a risky venture. But it doesn’t matter. It’s all a part of the suffering.
The journey ends somehow and so does the day, and life seems bearable. Thanks to the footboard, which everyday makes me feel alive.