I love to travel in second class compartments in Indian trains. One gets to see and mingle with a microcosm of Indian life. Vendors, harried passengers, coolies in their red uniforms, the platforms bursting with life. As the train arrives at a station, teeming with passengers, and full of tea, fruit vendors and babies that cry and chortle. The sweet sounds of humanity reach a crescendo, as the passengers rush in a bid to outdo the others. No queues, nothing, just pure bedlam. "Chai!  Chai!"

I like the open doors and windows in the second class. Sitting next to the window, watching acres of mustard and wheat go by, the farmers going about working in the land, as a warm air continually caresses and hits the face, it is easy to lose oneself in thoughts. Dreams meander by in broad daylight.


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