standing beside the door while i lean against the glass with my butt pressing on it, un-deterring the person behind me from leaning his face on it. the glass. not my butt.
Seeing people of various shapes and sizes, each lost in his or her own world.
staring out the window as if looking at each other is an offence. surely, a smile to a stranger ain't that hard to do?
Silence prevails around me, as I minimise my world to the grooving samba music pouring into my ears from my headphones.
i rock to my own rhythm. trying unsuccessfully to be inconspicious among the other passengers rocking with the rhythm of the train.
and this is what i observe about people. regardless of age, gender, race or religion.
they look straight. never down or up. but straight ahead. their eyes slwoly recoil in their sockets as their mind travels elsewhere. their body attaches itself to the floor of the carriage. their eyes blink with their own tempo. eyeballs rooted in a position.
when their destination is announced over the intercom system, the small wheels in their mind turns, invisibly barking out oders to the various body parts. their hands uncoil from the pole while their shoes break away from the floor.
and did i mention the perseverance of office people? no matter how crowded the carriage is, they will always push on and persevere to gain a foothold in the train carriage.
Such is the never-ending struggle that exists everyday in the small carriage of a train.
