A walk in a metro!!

In India the toxicity in air has crossed much above the threshold. The country has topped the list of nations which produce maximum toxin to be breathed by its inhabitants. Beyond this fact, Metropolitans remain the places of preference for many, withstanding the fact that the contribution to the toxicity is mostly from these places. These are the places which are decked by profligate life of elite class and the prodigal infrastructures that could never accommodate homeless. All that it could admit are the fake definitions of development and progress and with it additional toxicity in its airs explicated by deep hatred for people of other race, color, creed, faith, status etc.

Metro is one of the crafts of modern engineering that, thankfully, does not add much to the chemical toxicity of air. The factors that add to the toxicity of hatred are always exogenous and therefore, metro or any other technology can’t be the safe bet for blaming the same. Recently, I traveled by this marvelous piece of Indian development epitome, imported from Germany. Avoiding office hour rush, which  won’t give you even a space to breath when a mad rush automatically pushes you somewhere inside the coach, I left for my destiny a little late in the evening. The infrastructure, undoubtedly, is a treat to eyes that compensates for the hassle. The security check at the entrance reminded me Kashmir for two reasons. One is very obvious and the other was Mushtaq, a security personal who makes sure that the metal detector handed to him is working properly. The beep always meant nothing. I always wonder if they are checking the working of metal detectors or searching us.  Asking such a question in Kashmir was always suicidal, so I lived with the curiosity. Mushtaq was a guy with long beard who happened to be from my native place. But being Mushtaq never meant less of frisking. As a Kashmiri, he knew that we are meant to be frisked more and very much programmed not to mind. Metro streamed like beautiful Sridevi depicting Nagin in a super hit Bollywood movie of 80’s. The first cart, being reserved for young girls, looked all the more catchy, followed by other coaches with some reserved seats for women who may not support this unjust segregation of sexes. Metro aptly seemed representing Indian nation with so many reservations from head to tail. I too wished to protest by traveling in the first cart but the videos circulated on youtube showing lot of humiliation for men for this violent and unacceptable offence were more than scary for taking such risk. I entered one of the middle coaches and found a space to hang on the sides of a rod. With a curious look on the people sitting in a row, I wished someone to leave a seat early. A boy standing nearby either had a recent break off or just fallen in love. He was playing some alien songs loudly on his mobile phone, without any respect to the warning on the speaker for this being an offence. I would have penalized him several times more for making me guess so hard and still being confused for it to be a love song or a sad song. Sitting row was occupied by few women also. On my right, I could see a burqa clad woman with only eyes open and holding a child, around 2 years old, in her lap. She had some clean shaved male partner with her. On my left was a lady draped in sari with a broad vermillion (sindoor) along the parting of her hair and a bindi on forehead. She was also holding a child of almost same age in her lap and accompanied by a clean shaved male partner sitting with her. Children have this amazing talent of making people act like monkeys and parents enjoy the pride in this. The alien songs in the mobile phone of the guy standing with me had already been silenced after few stations and he was busy entertaining one of the kids with his monkey gestures. Suddenly the child in the ‘Hindu’ lap jumped from his comfort zone to reach near the child in the ‘Muslim’ lap. They caught each other’s sight, passed smiles and a kiss, much to the surprise of this bystander who was relieved of his job. Next station, the woman attired in sari stood up and took away his child to get down. This proved disastrous and the other kid started crying bitterly. Parents tried their experience and gestures to save themselves from embarrassment but it was futile. In all this frenzy, a man with turban entered the coach with a child in his lap. The smiles were back and the kisses were exchanged, much to the relief of parents and a child himself. My station came and I left, wishing we could never grow up to understand the differences that make our airs toxic.