The local slowly ambles at the station. It’s a hot and humid afternoon. I just suffered a blank at the exams and wasn’t able to express much on the paper, blurting out whatever nonsense that I could write. It must be the effect of mugging late at night and watching the football match inside the TV room when Manchester United slammed 7 goals against AS Roma who scored two during the semis of European Champions League.
I was feeling damn sleepy and walked down the road, lighting a cigarette and trying to make sense how I went blank. The breeze flowing from the sea ruffled my long hair and footsteps took me to the station where I boarded the slow train, sitting at the window seat, watching the tracks and old buildings. Gleaning through the copy of Mid Day where huge posters of yesterday’s match were splashed, the frustrated me tried to figure out and being stuck on what went wrong at the exams wasn’t going to help my case. After all, there is no option left but to take the exams either in October or next April. It was a call that I had to take. It was like being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
The train hit a dead-end and it distracted me away from the newspaper. I became restless and glanced at the window when a fast train stumbled at the opposite track and after five minutes, the motor engine came to life. Somehow, the fast train caught my fancy when we approached Marine Lines and saw a man, with a bag slung over his shoulder, who threw himself out of the train. The speed of the train made him roll on the concrete floor, doing a somersault, donning the avatar of the last action hero and I thought he died on the spot. I was horrified. What was that dude thinking?
Aisa koi Karta hai kya! When the train sped past the platform, he was casually walking as if nothing happened, except the dust and mud stains on his white shirt that only Ariel can salvage. It was later that it dawned upon me that he was traveling in a fast train that halted only at main stations and hence, the suicidal jump. How idiotic people can be? After all, it’s a matter of two stations and he could have stopped at Churchgate to take another local to Marine Lines in a span of five minutes.
Mumbai! A city that throws so many interesting and thrilling stories just by peering outside the train windows. Life is always back to normal, be it life or death for commuters who face several woes storming inside the head and some crazy fellow wanna kill himself by default doesn’t make the city stop breathing. Its people are crazy. We are a crazy lot. The next day, the cabs will honk their way to hell and commuters will fight with each other to dash inside the local train and some idiots will cross the railway track or jump out of a fast train at the cost of their lives.