Life through the Metro

Fridays have become special of late. No, not because they mark the end of a grueling week; not even because they herald the start of the much-awaited week-end, but because, on Fridays, I’ve begun commuting to work on the Metro. Practical wisdom and logistic considerations were behind this apparent sagacity but this routine has given me a special insight into the world around me. It has also added a certain clockwork precision to our movements on this day, a sense of challenge as it were; so all in all, it’s very satisfying.

9.00 AM and the spouse and I are in the car, headed for Noida City Centre, our friendly, neighbourhood Metro station. Eight minutes down the line, we’re at the place and then onwards, it’s work divided. I alight from the car at the point where he turns it towards the parking lot and scale the steps to go to the ticket counter to purchase the tokens. One for him, for Rajiv Chowk in New Delhi (no less!) the other for the humbler Sector 15 within Noida which is my destination. On days that the tokens are in different colours (read light and dark blue), it’s simple distinguishing them, on those when they’re the identical dark blue, it’s a lot of strategy (always keeping his in the right hand, mine in the left) and concentration (J) that help me remember which one’s whose and avoid needless confusion.

The next five minutes are spent waiting for him to show up, simultaneously keeping an eye on the hands of the watch as they creep inexorably close to 9.17 and wondering, for the nth time, whether we’ll make it in time. And then the familiar figure ambles into view, the token quickly exchanges hands and we join our respective queues in a jiffy. A quick, customary frisking, the bags chucked into the x-ray machine, collected at the other end and we’re on the escalator in a trice, moments of suspense ensuing before the sight of the sleek train still standing at the platform, reassures us. Two minutes later, we’re in the cool welcoming interiors, and I marvel, yet again, at the huge numbers this mode of transport accommodates and renders lives convenient for and also, in the bargain, the enormous respite it provides to the bursting-at-the seams traffic of the capital’s roads………………....Darwazon se hut kar khade hon/please stand clear of the doors…….breaks my reverie and we’re off. At 9.17 sharp.

Noida through the Metro, looks quite different from what it does from the car. The aerial view of the vast expanse of the sprawling Golf Club is very impressive and a far cry from the cursory glimpse it normally gives the average commuter. Then, there’s a tantalizing view of the GIP (Great India Place for the uninitiated) as the tube rail swerves gracefully to the right, heading for the Botanical Garden stop. Next, it’s the bustling Sector 18 station and then we cross the educational hub of Noida-the area that houses the IMSes and the T.I.M.Es of the world-Sector 16-finally reaching my chosen destination. I collect my stuff and prepare to disembark, merging once again with the nameless crowd....................

Each time, this turns out to be a truly edifying experience that gives me ample food for thought. Right from the time I board the train, I become, at once, a part of the melee and yet, in a curious way, a dispassionate bystander. I watch folks grab seats and also those who don’t get them, stand by without rancour, never is there a confrontation or an argument. In this hurly-burly of Life, each individual seems engrossed in his/her own thoughts, the day’s plans surely unfolding before the eyes, absorbed, distracted, concentrating, focused depending on different mindsets/situations. But in the midst of it all, there’s still a connect with the people around and after every stop I observe this happening. Many a myth is exploded, as I notice youngsters offering their seats to older people and men voluntarily-albeit a trifle sheepishly-giving up the Ladies seat they were occupying when they behold a lady standing. Once, when I vacated my seat for an older lady, she thanked me profusely but insisted on making place-the person next to her shifted willingly-and managed to keep me-stranger on a train- seated till my stop came.

In an age where we dub youth callous, I see young folks happily giving up their seats to seniors; when stories of communal tension hit the headlines frequently, I’ve watched a middle-aged man get up and offer his seat to an older man-very obviously belonging to a minority community…all a part of daily life: of the average Indian-the middle-class Indian-who is the mainstay of the nation and who bears, on his fragile shoulders, the grave responsibility of steering the country forward with its set values and legendary solidarity intact.

There’s hope yet-despite all the anti-social activities: the road rage, the mindless violence, terrorism and the divisive policies of self-serving politicians, there’s hope yet

For, the wise cross section of India-its vast majority- is still where it should be. Its spirit overcomes all divisions; it prevails at all times because this majority still thinks right and believes in the oneness of this great nation.