The Thin Yellow Line

The other day I took a local train at rush hour. From Dadar station to Goregaon no less. Its like going into battle. Thats the only way I can describe it. From the moment you step into the station..you start feeling this could be it. The last day of your life (no pun on the bomb blast scenario). I mean it. Really.

For instance, there's complete chaos when you walk in. People milling around, running. There is urgency, tension in the air. A bombardment of noise fills your ears and you look around for cover.

You buy your ticket..patiently waiting in the long line. Almost like the line for the boot camp barber. The ticket sales guy humiliates you because you dont have change. Finally, with this little initiation ritual over you enter with trepidition into the station.

Soon, you figure out which train to take not by the cryptic signboards, but by asking other veterans. Most of them sneer at you when you timidly ask them which train goes to Goregaon. They dont want to get too friendly with the fresh meat. God knows if you'll even make it past today lily boy they seem to think. Finally, a grizzled veteran with a tired look in his eyes points you towards the right platform. Thanking him, you push and shove your way, jostle to the right platform.

There you are greeted by rank upon rank of fellow soldiers..each one anxiously awaiting his moment of glory. You look left and right. Smile with false bravado at the youngster next to you. Watch a veteran standing calmly, but knowing he is ready to spring to action at the right moment. You all wait like coiled springs behind the thin yellow line on the ground.

Suddenly you can feel the whole platoon go tense. The moment has arrived. The train is pulling into the station. With whoops and war cries, the guys on the platform assault the train doors to get in. At the same time, those trying to get out are also struggling valiantly. Like the ocean you surge forward and backward. Who will win? Finally, almost against your will you are crushed, mangled, and finally reach inside. But its not over yet. Packed like sardines, head to oily head, you stand defending every inch of space. Should you lift your foot, that space is gone. Stand on one foot for the remainder of the journey, novice! But fate favors you - a seat suddenly opens! Sighing with relief you push your bum into the space and wiggle it to make sure you can sit almost comfortably.

All too soon, its time to get off. This time, you have changed sides. After watching the veterans, you copy them - squishing yourself against the side of the door. When the train slows down the braver ones - the paratroopers make the jump onto the platform, running along with the train and skidding to a stop. Now its your turn - the ground troops. You push mightily, with cheers and exhortations from those who still remain on the train. With almost fanatical strength and certain knowledge that if you dont get off now, you will be carried to Borivali, you push your way out.

Your hair is askew, your shirt is smeared with the sweat of someone else, your pants are crumpled. But you made it to your destination in under 30 minutes.

Like all conquering heros you and your fellow train mates eagerly pillage the vada pav stalls along the side of the station before beginning the long march to the next conquest.