THE FIRST COACH.

 

 

 

mind_the_gap

 

 

 

It’s about last saturday evening when my sister and I went shopping. We took a metro from Rajiv Chowk. Yes. I think we all know that this is where, no matter what day it is and what time it is, people are always kind enough to push you inside the metro and out of it as well. Because of the crowd, you know.

So, with the shopping bags in our hands, there we stood, waiting for a metro. Same everyday rush, a metro arrived. We stood right in front of “The first coach is reserved for ladies.” coach, like always and with not much effort (just an apparent discomfort on my face and my sister’s too, of course),  we were inside the metro. I was being nice enough to let people out first and then get myself in the metro when my sister…

“What were you doing standing there?”

“I was waiting for the people to get out first.”

*She smiles*

“You don’t wait. You miss the metro if you don’t elbow your way in.”

…..and we both laughed.

The first coach doesn’t always mean you get to sit. Sometimes you stand all your way to your destination. Sometimes you plonk yourself on the tiny bump that segregates one seat from another. Sometimes you stare at people as to who is about to get up so that you could sit. But we stood all our way.

It still is the fun coach. You know why?

When I look across, I see men standing/sitting, wearing what. Shirt, pant, shoes probably? Some talking business, others with the headphones on, carrying bags? Or, some college or maybe high school guys wearing their own ‘something stylish’, with a cap with “DOPE” and “SWAG” written on them? Ya. Not very cool, BTW.

While the ladies coach has all kinds. From Laxmi Nagar type to South Delhi type. From bimbo to smart. From loud to elegant. I have a habit of judging people by their look. But, who doesn’t? I must be judged by them too.

The judgement isn’t always bad. Sometimes I am attracted by some girls too.

Like that day. I saw a girl, probably 20. She looked so beautiful. She had the body that every girl dreams of, with Rihanna’s blunt bob haircut, eyeliner and a wine lip colour. My sister and I literally stared at her and gave that “Wow! I wish I could pull that off.” look to each other. Then there was this woman who wouldn’t stop complaining about her mother-in-law on the phone. I don’t know if she did or did not realise this, but, we could hear her every word. We could only hear her side of the conversation, but it was rather hilarious.

We passed time by talking about stuffs like,

“Omg! her shoes. I love them.”

“Her haircut.”

“I like her bag.”

All of which ended with, “Where she must’ve got it from? We shop too. Why don’t we get these?”

 

Vaishali Metro Station. Doors will open on the left. Please mind the gap. 


It was time for us to come back to reality.๐Ÿ˜‹

 

 

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59 Replies to “THE FIRST COACH.”

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