My first attempt at writing a short story.
As the crowded ‘Virar fast’ pulled in at Borivali station, he boarded it again, for the fourth time today. He loved every bit of the journey. The crowds did not dampen his excitement neither did the suspicious glances. He was oblivious to the fact that, his to and fro journey from Virar to Borivali four times in a row, had him spotted by the railway police.
But nothing about him seemed conspicuous. Just a normal guy, maybe in his early 20s, wearing creased and misfit formals. But unlike the rest, he was very happy about the crowds. Countless people cramped into one compartment, brushing past him, without judging, not bothered about his caste.
As the police started an enquiry into him, he made his way back to his small house near Virar station, content and happy. For the first time in his small life, he felt equal with the rest, people shared a space with him, regardless of his colour, race or caste, much unlike his village. No demeaning looks, no discrimination, no longer an ‘untouchable’.
He understood why they called Mumbai the city of dreams! His dream came true here, he was finally “accepted” into the society.
Image courtesy: Ajay Pake