chang*

no one really thinks about the morning commute. in fact, no one really thinks during the morning commute. most are plugged into their music, hoping to dispel the haze of the waking mind, in the midst of which apparitions silently linger – schedules, people, places. for some, their fringe awareness of others is the only indication that they are with the world. the train rolls on, and we dream on in our own little zones.

in the discomfort of avoiding eye contact there is a certain affinity between us. it is hard to resist the desire to look into those windows behind which souls are found, and ask the questions – ‘who are you?’, ‘where are you going?’, ‘what do you do?’. i am one among many, my face stubbornly impassive, till a man stumbled as the train jerked and smacked his head against my handhold. he smiled wryly at me as the girl beside him stifled a giggle. i smiled and shrugged my shoulders. we looked ahead, calculating the awkwardness added to the equation.

at the last station, everyone shuffled out of the train and towards the escalator, where a choke-point formed. you couldn’t tell from their faces but everyone was quietly defending their own little zones, resolved that no one was going to cut in front of them. then we reached the bottom and i watched them go through the turnstiles, to wherever. i think i will see them again.

for more on my thoughts, click here.