It was a fast local train towards Bombay. Through the blurred trees, stations and buildings, the train dashed forward as if there was something amiss. Whenever it stopped at a few stations, there was hardly anyone to board the train because it was a lazy Saturday morning and moreover, the day couldn’t completely be mismatched from the night; darkness was yet not shied away.
The train jumped like a rabbit on those bumpy joints of rail tracks, and this wrenched Johan causing unbearable pain. He chose to sit on the corner, where no one could fix an eye on him so easily. Among the very few passengers who entered his compartment, Johan found that almost no one had noticed him sitting there. They were either busy rolling their eyes on the morning newspaper or busy chatting on the cell-phones. Some others bent their heads for a nap that such an enchanting morning, with the grace of a seductress, could easily tempt them into.
This reminded Johan of this feature of city life that leaves no time for others. Fitting the day into a morning-to-morning roster was that every one was chasing for. In between, consciously finding time for others would be nothing but suicidal. Hence the glances were cut short to see just the desired glimpses and senses were always tuned to exclude the ‘other parts of the stories’.
Slowly, but sadly, Johan realized a kind of comfort in the seclusion he was receiving, the staying away from doubtful stares and sympathetic questions; a condition that he was into would have created, otherwise. Thinking of his condition, he felt all the more angry on Sebi and Neville. He tried to imagine them as two monsters eating the word ‘FRIENDSHIP’ in the valley of Matheran.
Soon, the train announcement, in its broken voice, reminded of Dadar, the next station to come. As it repeated the announcement for a third time, Johan got up from his seat with much effort and moved towards the exit. The place where he sat was cold.
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