This is something I carry around with me everywhere. The memory of these sights and sensations remain untouched by the onslaught of time. They come rushing back whenever I spot the blue intercity trains. The musty smell of the 3rd AC compartment dominated by the aromas of masala chai, spicy food, stinking socks and.. cum.
I work in a metropolitan city in India and after a career of almost a decade, I have now achieved the ultimate Indian middle class stature of not having to travel in trains. I always enjoyed traveling in trains and I would still prefer it over airplanes but life does not allow the luxury of time anymore.
My family lives in the southern part of the country and I had decided to attend college in the north. Thus, the train journey took no less than 35 hours and felt like eternity. I had written my final year exams and bid goodbye to all my friends. College was over and everyone was homebound. I usually preferred the Non AC Sleeper coaches but this time my family insisted, for my safety, that I travel in 3 tier AC coach. Their confidence in men respecting a women's space on the basis of their economic status is highly misplaced but I did not have the option to argue.
The tickets were booked and sent by mail. It was a few days after my 19th birthday and a week after my first break up. I was a mixed bag of emotions and would occasionally, without provocation, burst into tears. People around me thought I have lost someone and I am going back to bid them good by. That is what I had always thought of when I saw people crying in trains.
The only good part about this journey was my seat. Side Lower. If you have ever seen the arrangement of the Indian intercity train you would agree that while traveling alone, the side lower seats are the ones to aspire for. They are not facing other seats directly and in an AC compartment there is an option to draw the curtains which almost completely isolates the berth from the rest of the coach.
In the rush to pack and leave I had not even looked at my ticket and it was only when I reached my seat did I realize that I did not possess a confirmed seat. I had an RAC ticket. Which means that I would have to share my seat with another passenger. My dreams of privacy went out of the window and were quickly replaced with the anxiety of sharing that tiny berth with a stranger. I started imagining who my fellow passenger would be and I could not come up with any comfortable option apart from another girl.
Any boy of any age would make the journey very awkward and uncomfortable. I would spend the next 35 hours worrying if my bra is showing or if my T-Shirt has ridden up my belly or if my jeans have slipped to reveal my underwear. Even if none of this happens, the boy/ man could still be staring like it is his only hobby in life and I would have to endure it without creating too much fuss. I now hoped the curtains could separate the berth into halves. There was no question of sleeping anyways, at least I could sit in peace.
Soon the train started moving and there was no one on my berth. I wondered if the fellow passenger has not boarded but my happiness would turn out to be short lived. Soon enough a lady entered and put her bags on the berth in front of me. She was carrying a child in one hand and her bag in the other. I started thinking about the strength she must have, may be it comes with the hormones that are released at childbirth.
She had a sweet face and gave me a warm smile. I instantly noticed her breasts. They were too big for a woman of her size. They did not seem too firm but were shapely none the less. I felt a little jealous when I thought of my own breasts.
