The Homecoming: A Sigh of Relief

Surrounded by people on all sides, it felt like bees in their honeycomb, bustling to store their hard-earned honey. The constant chittering and chattering of commuters in their mother tongue was all a part and parcel of a train journey. The train is a melting pot of cultures and people from all walks of life take the same journey but to different homes- where a clerk might stand in the train while the carpenter took a seat- a rare moment of unintended equality. But one thing was common, everyone eyed the travellers entering the AC coach.

One thing was for sure, the smell of sweat, the touch of oily skins rubbing against my once well washed cotton shirt made my every nerve twitch and muscle tense. Varied odours of hair oil from herbal to Ayurvedic wafted in the air. Spasmodically, the air from fans placed at the corners of the train managed to make their way to my face. While I found myself fitting in a measured sliver of space, just like the centre rose in a bunch of rotting roses, some passengers sitting on the seats had unethically, unsympathetically and absolutely unabashed occupied twice the space they needed, guarding empty seats with blatant lies.

Similar to musical chairs, people had hooked their eyes on their preferred seats and waited hopefully for that passenger to get off the train before they would. But, unlike musical chairs there wasn’t any tangible prize on winning except the intangible satiation of the fact that I am sitting while others are standing.

Taking short rapid breaths, I felt a lack of oxygen in the nerves of my brain causing my head to throb. To my urgent relief the announcement of my station arose a relay of responses throughout my body different from the oscillatory right to left motion of the train. As the doors groaned open, the surge of the crowd took over; I didn't even have to step down- I was propelled out like a pea exploding from a pod. Never willing to look back.

The next ordeal was to catch an auto-rickshaw akin to a crane catching fish. Once I sat in an auto, (which I hopefully was able to catch relatively easily) I felt the joy of the rush of the cool, evening air when it brushed past my heavy eyelids, taking away it my stress and making me release the pulsating sensation in my limbs.

The threshold of my home was a boundary between two worlds. As the door clicked shut, the station's frantic pulse began to fade, though my body still conditioned by the tracks- continued to vibrate with a ghost-rhythm. My ears rang with a residual hum of a thousand voices, a lingering echo of the honeycomb I had just escaped. It was only when I stepped onto the balcony that the transformation was complete. To begin with, the lapping sea-waves muffled the cacophony ringing in my ears, each wave acted as a rhythmic eraser scrubbing away the rasping voices that had lodged itself in my mind. I sank onto my comfortable, cushioned chair letting the organic thrust of the wind uplift and reinvigorate my spirits, while the warmth of the gritty, granite tiles anchored me back to the Earth. This is what the true tranquility that was instilled in me by my sweet home!!