A Voice for Change

 Born in Bombay, raised in Mumbai, the local train travel is imbibed in my system.  The adrenaline rush to catch a specific train is indescribable. Standing in the long queue to book a ticket, getting reprimanded by the railway clerk for not carrying change, brushing past sluggards who find railways stations idyllic and while time doing nothing, dodging pervert elbows, and then finally landing on the desired platform, was a sweet struggle, I lo oked forward to every morning during college days. The entire struggle would find fruition once inside the train. Finding a seat was no Herculean task. Yes, one had to be lucky to find a window seat. But a seat to sit and enjoy the chugging on wheels was sure.  I caught the same local everyday for straight six years. I made friends who shared breakfast and stories with me. Women of different age and personalities bonded. The 30 minute journey passed in a blur. On holidays, I could actually walk the length of a compartment. As a chi...

 Once I demanded a treat from a friend, he had reached a significant milestone in his career. 'Let’s party!' I urged him.  ' Party??!!! You don't drink or eat non-veg. What kind of party do you expect me to throw for you?' His response shocked me. But he was correct in way. In an era, where celebration is equated to overflowing beer mugs and KFC chicken buckets, he wasn't sure how he could enjoy with a friend like me. I stepped back. I understood I was not a piece that fit in his jigsaw puzzle.  I love to watch people getting on a high and chilling in the moment with a glass of wine or vodka. Each has their special way. I don't condemn them for not being like me. But gradually I drift away and celebrate in my own company. Finding my type is rare. But yesterday was a different experience. I partied, let my hair down, enjoyed a simple meal, and walked amidst the greenery of nature. Before I could do all of this, I worshiped and prayed. Yes, I was at a temple, ...