FlashNano 2021
07.11.2021
Day 7: Write a story that takes place entirely on the bus or train when you’re commuting to work
Refreshed
I’m a Mumbaikar and a diehard fan of the Mumbai local train. I love my daily commute, despite the cheek-by-jowl crowd, the rare availability of a seat, the unpredictable delays and the daily scramble to catch the 8:33 in the morning and the 7:46 in the evening.
Not to mention the cacophony of various noises inside the compartment. Vendors selling anything from hairpins to dresses, people singing bhajans (religious songs) and Bollywood songs out-of-tune at the tops of their voices, talking loudly on the phone or to each other or just having a great time.
Or..fighting.
Yes, fights are an almost daily occurrence in the train. And they mostly occur in the ladies’ compartment.
They usually start with something as simple as “hey, take your hair in front, it’s going in my mouth” or “don’t stamp my foot” and can, many a time, escalate to a really colourful Babel of screaming voices that can “improve” any spectator’s vocabulary of cuss words.
And there is also the perception that it’s the ladies who always fight. Which is largely true. I have always believed that this is because women are more stressed, what with having to manage the husband, kids and in-laws and the boss. The irritation in the train acts as a trigger and wham, the show begins!!
Today was no different. Except that it was one of those days when all I wanted was to stay home and rest my tired body, but had to attend office because of an urgent meeting. I had my sights set on a seat and a little snooze in the hour-long journey.
I got the seat and had almost nodded off when a commotion woke me up.
“Now what?” I grumbled to myself.
A young woman who had squeezed herself into the compartment had placed her luggage on the overhead rack and returned to the doorway to fight with another woman.
“Why did you push me while I entered the train?”
“Why did YOU push me?”
And then the fight started. It went from allegations of being pushed roughly to accusations of pushing everyone everyday to every other fault the women could find in each other. Others tried to intervene and stop the fight, but it was no use. Fortunately, no one else decided to join the verbal duel. Even more fortunately, the fight didn’t get physical.
As the two of them continued to rake up each other’s complete history of “misdemeanours”, their decibel levels rising with every new aspect of each other’s character, I realised that sleep was now impossible. So I just watched on, praying to the Almighty to din some good sense into the warring girls.
That didn’t happen. It was the next stop that put an end to it, when one of them alighted. Or so I thought, wearily. The remaining woman was now explaining in a loud voice, to whosoever cared to listen, how she was right and the other girl was wrong.
I was wondering how I would get through the day when I realised that the men in the adjoining general compartment (which is unofficially gents-only during peak hours) were having a great time watching the fight. They all wore a smug guys-don’t-fight look on their faces. Now I was really irritated.
But only for the next five minutes. A loud “heyyyy” from the other side of the grilled partition separating the compartments wiped out those smirks in an instant.
“Don’t push!! There’s no space on this seat!!”
“So where do I sit? On my neighbour’s lap?”
The high pitched voices belonged to two men who were trying to fit themselves as the last two occupants of a seven-seater bench.
God!! So men fight too!! My tiredness vanished in an instant and I perked up to watch. So did the others around me.
The argument escalated on predictable lines. But the expletives traded had more colours than we’d known and soon, the issue that triggered the fight was forgotten. God, men are better than us here!!
I’m a person who prefers to keep quiet and observe others on a train journey. So I just watched, amused. I had so much to tell all those people in my life who would constantly comment that “you women are fightercocks.” These two men outdid them all in what was one of the most vicious slanging matches.
And they continued till one of them alighted three stops later, leaving me wide awake and ready to face the day.
The fight had achieved something good, after all.
Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. However, the incidents reported are true.
Image courtesy: Alamy
