0014hrs says my Timex digital. Yet another day of overtime, and they don’t even pay extra cash!! Anyways, the BMC building just shimmers under the lights. The yellow stone standing testimony to time. I mean this is one building that quickly captures your attention as soon as you get out of CST station. The roads totally shorn of the regular traffic. It just seems to go on and on.

The Canon Pav Bhaji centre is about to close. They are doing the cleaning. Ah there I go without food one more night. This is really getting on my nerves now. Anyways, I have to hurry up now. The last train to Kalyan is in 10 minutes. I enter the subway. The shop boys are getting ready to sleep. I climb up the stairs leading up to the station. Ladies with real loud makeup standing on both the ends. No points for guessing which profession they belong to. Its illegal here, but still these women go about it like any other job. Do they have other choices? And the cops do nothing about it. Initially they used to loiter around the 3 no. Bus stop. Then a couple of news articles about that and they disappeared. But then they’ve just changed their location. And why will the cops bother them? They get their “Haftas”.

I enter the station. The Coffee Day outlet is open, but they just serve bland coffee and bland burgers. I’d have a Vada Pav anyday!! The indicator says 12:25 K. That’s my Kalyan local at 0025hrs. Not many people on the station today. This is the best part of working late. I get empty trains. Theres not much crowd. Sometimes theres hardly anyone in the entire compartment till Dadar. I can actually sleep on the benches for all I care.

I enter my regular compartment. Compartment no. 5 towards Kalyan. I just head to a window seat. Stretch myself. Ah it’s indeed been a long day. Its 0023hrs. Outside the fishermen and vegetable sellers are hurrying up towards the Luggage compartment. Leaving behind them a stench that makes me feel a bit queasy. Good that I didn’t have the pav bhaji.

The train starts on time. Infact a minute before schedule. The rattle of metal wheels against the rails slowly picks pace. Jhug-jhug jhug-jhug. The entire compartment is empty. Or is it? Maybe some one is sleeping on a seat which is not visible to my eye. I can also sleep on the seat, its that empty, but I’d rather let the cool wind blow through my hair. Standing on the door will give a lot of that wind, but I want to sit.

Aaah the first signal. Between CST and Masjid stations, there is bound to be a signal, which really pisses me off at times. I mean its such a disrespect, the train has just picked up some pace, and now it has to slow down for an oncoming train. This oncoming train is from Karjat. Politics indeed. Or rather Respect for the train coming from far off. As if I give a damn.

The train starts after waiting for 2 minutes. As soon as the train starts, I feel something brushing my neck from behind. I scream in horror, just to hear a counterscream equally loud!!

“What is the matter with you??”, asks a beautiful young girl, who has apparently just woken up from a nap, which I can make out from her swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry, it just kinda scared me, when I felt your hair brush my neck, because I thought there was no one in the compartment”, I justify my reason to shout.

“Here’s an idea, next time you enter a compartment, check the seat behind you to prevent a heat attack!!”, she quipped.

What a way to start a conversation. She took out a cigarette. Lodged it between her lips, and before lighting it, she asked me, “I hope you don’t mind?”.

“No its OK, you can go ahead…”

“As if I cared for your opinion!!”, she smirks.

She takes a long puff on the cancer stick. Yeah that’s what I call it. I lost a friend because of it. For me it is and will always remain a Cancer Stick. I m thinking shes a prostitute. Because you don’t get beautiful girls “accidentally” brush their hair by your neck. Im just hoping that she isn’t one.

“No I m not a prostitute. Chill!”, she completes as if shes read my mind.

“Whaa..??”, I exclaim!

“I know that look mister. I know whats gonna follow and just for the record I m warning you to stay off that road.”

“Ok I did think in those terms. Obviously no female travels in a gents compartment at this hour!!”, I defend myself.

“Well this compartment is generally empty. And no pervert will ever come here looking out for easy prey, as they do in the Ladies Compartment. And if there are any perverts, then they’d most probably be Gay. That wouldn’t be a problem with me as such”, she says, pausing for another long drawn puffs from the Cancer Stick.

“Ah, well that’s an interesting way of looking at it.”, I say.

Parel passes by. Still no one has entered the compartment. Its just the two of us. The female is staring at me, making me nervous. She’s wearing a red kurti and blue denims. She dosent seem to be from here. Looks more North Indian. A Punjabi maybe. Her hazel colored eyes are really captivating. I try looking away.

“Samira Ahmed”, she says offering the other hand which doesn’t have the cancer stick.

“Nirvaan”, I reply.

“Yeah we all want to achieve Nirvaan one day, but that’s not what I asked for. What’s your name??”, she smiles.

“Nirvaan, thats my NAME!! Nirvaan Mehta”, I reply back, a bit agitated.

(...To Be Continued)