At Dadar station he somehow pushed the surge of bodies and got inside the local train. For the last seventeen years, every evening at 7:21, in the same coach of the same local train he would push through the horde of people standing at the door of the train, some trying to get in others trying to get out. Only the faces changed. This evening was no different. He managed to reach his spot under the fan, in the space between the two metal seats facing each.
His frail body swayed as the train lurched and started to move. The fan dried the sweat on his bald head. With a wet handkerchief he wiped his brows, darkened in the sun and scared with the lines of his daily struggle. The bag slung across his chest hung over his almost invisible stomach, a plastic bottle stuck out of the open zip.
“Aey uncle move this bag from my face”, shouted a boy sitting in front of him. The ma
n looked at his fair clean shaven face. His clothes told him that the kid was one of those brats raised in luxury of his father’s money. A girl in a short skirt, held the boys left arm. The man stared at the boy.
“Uncle, are you deaf? I am telling you something”, shouted the boy. The girl giggled and whispered something in his ears. They both laughed and exchanged a high five. The man glared at the two.
“Rohan be scared, he is angry”, said the girl and laughed. “Remove this bag from my face. Now!” shouted Rohan and pushed the bag. The man adjusted his bag back over his stomach and continued staring at the couple.
“Abey buddhe have you gone crazy, cant you understand. I will kick the hell out
of you, if you don’t remove this bag from here right now.” shouted Rohan jumping to his feet.
As the train lurked to a halt, the announcer’s voice finished announcing “next station, Bandra”. As more people pushed to get into the train, the humidity and the stench of human sweat became unbearable in the already overcrowded coach. The crowd pushing and shouting from outside was unaware of the confrontation going on inside. The people standing around them looked as Rohan shouted and gestured, threatening the man who stood his ground unflinchingly. He hasn’t lost the war that his life has waged against him since years, how can he lose this battle against a brat. The people looked on in amusement as the girl laughed.
The train started to move again with a jerk and the boy flopped on to the seat again. “Move this fucking bag” he yelled again, this time he pushed the man. As the man tried to retain his balance, the girl laughed out hard at the sight of man scrambling.
In one move the man opened the zip of his bag, whipped out a gun and pointed it at the boy. “Tichya aaila”, screamed the man, as if the scream helped him release all the frustration pent up inside him through years of struggle. Silence fell across the coach. The men pushing to get inside the coach stopped pushing. Those who were trying to avoid stomping on each other’s feet as they tried to gain balance froze. The only thing moved was the overburdened local, running on the serpentine steel tracks towards its destination. The only noise to be heard was the clatter of metal grinding against metal.
Rohan and his girlfriend stared at the short barrel of the gun. The people standing around them moved aside to give the man space as if he had suddenly grown in size. “What the fuck were you saying? Can you repeat it for me? Please.” said the man, his eyes red and ready to bulge out of their sockets. The sweat reappeared on his brows as the girl clutched at Rohan and started to cry.
“Sorry sir, please forgive me”, said Rohan his eyes moist and both his hands raised in surrender. “Please let us go sir, we meant no harm to you”, he pleaded again, as the man continued to point the gun at Rohan’s forehead. “Please sir, please let us go” it was the girl this time. She cried hysterically as tears washed her makeup. The people around them continued to stare at the commotion but nobody spoke.
“Pudhil station Andheri. Agla station Andheri. Next station Andheri.” boomed the female voice on the public announcement system. As the man lowered the gun, the train stopped.
People rushed to get out of the coach. The young couple dashed from their seat and ran for the door. The man gave a hearty laugh, put the gun back in his bag and sat on the seat where the couple was sitting. He looked around at the people as if he owned the coach. The train started to move. Nobody approached him. Nobody dared to sit in the empty seat beside him.
People continued to get in and out of the train as it made its way to its destination. The man sat near the window looking at the tracks running alongside the train. He had a satisfied look. The look of a winner who has just won the biggest battle of his life, who knew he couldn’t be suppressed by anyone however rich or powerful. He felt a power deep inside him. He patted his bag smiled and closed his eyes. At Vasai station he got up looked around at the people who had seen the power he possessed inside his bag.
His five year old son greeted him at the door of his one BHK flat. “What did you bring for me today, dad”, his son shouted excited to see his father. The man threw his bag on the floor and slumped on the sofa. The television played a loud song as a hundred dancers danced on the screen. He closed his eyes as his son crouched on the floor beside his bag and began to open its zip.
The boy pulled out the gun from the bag and shouted in excitement. He pointed the gun towards the television and shouted “Thaiy! Thaiy! Thaiy”! He then turned and pointed the gun at his father’s head and put his thin fingers on the trigger. The man opened his eyes and with tired eyes looked at the snout of the gun. His son was smiling at him, two of his teeth missing. “Thaiy! Thaiy! Thaiy!” The kid shouted and pressed the trigger.
