Amorous Flicks - A journey by metro Part - II
scsosho | 23 Jun 2009

The Dwarka to Rajiv Chowk journey is over. Things which were irritating won't be bothering me now but then when people are almost out I realise that I too have to alight here. I plunge out of the coach and head towards next Metro.

NOW WHEN the metro is empty, I realise that I too have to alight here. I plunge out of the coach. Once again I am amidst a huge crowd. There are people and people all around. I had never seen so many people moving at the same time in one direction or the other within the confines of a small space. Some are really moving fast as if racing for a trophy.
Next I find myself near the elevators. Some people are finding it difficult to negotiate the moving steps. Others are looking at them with fun. I struggle in the crowd to reach the one moving downwards and occupy a step on it.
The journey from Rajeev Chowk to Kashmiri Gate is relatively short. My metro train arrives within nine minutes. Once again I am in the metro coach ready for amorous flicks. I am standing amidst university hostelites returning from CP. Some of them are carrying books in their hands. These may be freshly purchased since it did not appear to have been opened. These two girls standing exactly opposite to me appear to be freshers. One is wearing jeans, the other salwar-kameej. I realise how salwar kameej can also be such an attractive attire. Compared to jeans and top it covers you entirely but still leaves enough scope for guess work. The one in jeans does not appear to be from a well to do family. She is young but not glowing. She must have taken to jeans to look modern and upright. It appeared as if she finished doing the utensils before boarding the Metro. The one in salwar kameej is bright. She appears very studious. Both of them have still a long way to go before they can flaunt their bodies. I skip my attention to other side before being discovered as a naughty uncle.
I suddenly find myself  deep in meditation. By the way Metro is the right place to meditate because your deepest self is best revealed when amongst total strangers. Try it, if you have not experienced it already. Come Kashmir Gate and I leave the Metro again. This time I have to haul myself a good way on the cement floor to reach another platform, four storeys above. Once again the crowds accompany me all the way. I find myself in a sea of humanity. People from all classes, creeds, cultures, personalities, faces, colours, shapes, sizes are present.
The platform I reach now is almost like a roof top platform. A Metro arrives and I board it. I immediately notice a change in the type of my co-passengers. A majority of them now are from lower middle class. It appeared as if this Metro ran through villages. The ladies around me are unkempt and rough. Their bodies are crumpled and their clothes loose. The belongings they carry are already worn out. They give a distasteful look. The one I stand next to has the looks of a squeezed lemon. Nevertheless I can imagine in her, her sweet sixteen to realise how she must have been no less charming and inviting. Another life has been enjoyed and celebrated already.
I prefer to look out from the large window pane. It is all open and spread out; we are crossing the river Jamuna. The darkness has set in. The lights in the distant appear dim and twinkling. For a moment it appeared as if I was in a plane about to touch the ground. Soon we get past the open area and reach a jungle of concrete houses. It is houses and houses all around. How so many houses come up in one place, I wondered?
The Metro has for the first time allowed people to look at Delhi from a height, finding out where we are live and how we live. It has enabled commoners to find out what lies on the rooftops of houses of the rich. It allows you to see what goes on inside smaller houses and what is turning in the factories. It has thrown bare everything: people, personalities, work places, living rooms, cultures – you name it.
The announcements inside the Metro are really catchy. The one on the presence of pickpockets makes you suspicious of everyone around you. Unwittingly you reach for your pocket, a sign enough for the real pickpocket to mark you. Another announcement ‘please keep off the doors’ kept sounding like ‘keep off your dirty ogling’.
Finally, my destination, Dilshad Garden, is announced. I come out of the Metro and the Metro station. I am greeted by hot dusty winds blowing in my face. All my pleasure is swept away in no time. When will I board the Metro again?