And so I get into the train, and all is quiet like I have walked into someone's bedroom at 3 am, the women sit quietly and no one wants to look anywhere or say anything. Seven bomb blasts have ripped open similar compartments just few hours ago, on parallel running rail lines. This is not the time to smile, giggle, coochie coo on the phone or even look happy. The screams you did not hear could have been from your throat. The train pulls out and with the cell phone networks down, it is like a prison cell on the move, the convicts are all guilty of having a normal existence while over hundred families will not sleep peacefully tonight.No TV transmission, no radio static, no beeping messages, no ringtones cutting through the air this is one sombre sad journey.
What is happening to the city? Is this really happening? How badly does it hurt when a bomb goes off? Why did the people who jumped out of the train not look out for the other speeding train that sliced them? Why did the police turn up so late? Why does everyone praise Mumbai for its spirit..when it clearly has no choice but to move on?
How much longer does it have to bear the brunt of being a city that is nothing but A WALLET for the country, where the money comes out, but nothing goes back for the city..in terms of infrastructure or security.These are a few questions that hang in the air, which every head in the compartment was contemplating.. A few raw thoughts before the media conditions us and bombards us with views, opinions of people who matter and are never around when you need them. Of analysis of news that will be chewed on more than cud recycled among a hundred cows.
All the peace and quiet, out of sheer shock is what just what Everyone in the train compartment soaks in, before 'other people' tell you what is 'good for society' and use it for elections.A flicker of a light or a sudden stop between stations makes everyone get fidgety. The train goes in the same direction every day, but this time around, no one is going home feeling safe. No one.