A slice of my city in my now city
It’s 8:45 am on a Sunday and I set out to meet a friend. I am running late and walking fast to not keep her waiting. As I whiz past closed shops, I see the city is blissfully asleep with the sun shining bright on the pulled down shutters. The streets are warming up with a few pedestrians in sight. I frantically pace only to see her text that reads
It’s Sunday, don’t fret. I am waiting, so it’s all chill.
Where the tree-lined streets end, I take a flight of stairs up the station. The large, empty corridors is a sight I could never imagine on a weekend morning in a metropolitan city station. I greet the teller who just handed me my coupon with an expressionless face. Can’t blame her reaction for working on a Sunday. The grey-green granite flooring didn’t do much to cheer her up either.
I enter the platform to be greeted by a vigilant guard and a couple of fidgety passengers. My ride was to arrive in :06 mins. And then, the sun beams over the cityscape of small terraces hosting yellow and black water tanks with some solar panels for company. It felt like someone had a huge Lego project going on. I couldn’t help but marvel in its relaxed yet colorful tones. It made me miss the chaos and momentum of commute back home in Bombay for a second. Never had a terminal been ever so quiet. Never had the sky seemed so apparent.
As my ride slowly swooshes in, I prep myself to get in. The destination is roughly 15 mins away, amidst trees and tunnels, and I’m teeny bit excited for this one. However, no one seems in a hurry to get anywhere. No one even attempts an eye contact, yet everyone keeps a vigil. That’s the flavour of this city, perhaps — to keep calm and carry on.
And this is somewhere I feel lost, yet found.
