I was already overwhelmed, and then, it rained.

Serendipity

There must exist an unknown external force. For despite failure of the inner forces to recognize their worthiness, destiny somehow finds its way.
Lust must drive the inner forces for it hits dead walls often.
Inner forces steer the wagon, but they know not who builds the meandering roads.
Succumb to the anonymous forces because serendipity is seldom brutal.

Miles to go…

After a delightful trek to Korigad near picturesque Lonavala, fatigued, my friend and I stepped into what appeared to be an outlandish world on Platform Number 6. The dheemi local would transport us back to Pune to update profile pictures and narrate to our families the thrill that soaked us in. We boarded the train well in time to secure our favourite seats in the vicinity of the window, so heavily criss-crossed with metal bars only to allow air in. We exchanged smiles at the fruition of our first trek together. As the departure time closed in, the ladies compartment began brimming with vendors selling pastoral berries, vibrant hairclips, flimsy earrings to students who journeyed up down routinely which made trekkers and picnickers like us look rather monochromic and sombre.  

Not unlike the rest of the swarm was the unostentatious woman who desperately squeezed into the seat next to my friend. Her little son, gasped for air as he sat into his mother’s lap.  As the train chugged out of the platform, the chilly breeze appeased the exasperation in the bogie. In no time, the woman coddled her son with a packet of chips which she pulled out of her humongous purse. He was entertained by a well spectated row that had sparked amongst the mob that had been pushed in at Kamshet as he munched on. My friend and I watched helplessly as his mother pushed the crumpled remnants of the packet out of the tightly packed window. The child merrily gorged on junk one after the other as the floor began to litter with every type of chip or biscuit that he ate and his mother littered the railway track with every packet that the bairn emptied. Evidently, the woman was unaware her felonious act. The child mimicked his mother as he pushed the last packet out of the window all by himself. He had been educated.  

We were flustered, vexed by the ongoing in the compartment and yet we chose to remain silent. The silence furthered the rift between the two classes. Who would believe that the network of dingy little bogies ranked number one in the world? Millions of others like this boy had bequeathed this wont. As the local stationed at Pune Junction, we unboarded into what was the outlandish world. There were miles to go.