Newerways

 Disclaimer Whatever plagiarism may be only in the name of the title, this journey has little to do with the sad details of the migrant population. It is my perspective of the world today and its problems.   I had been a regular traveler between Delhi and Ajmer after my father passed away, not realizing eight hours would fly away so soon, leaving me wishing Ajmer never came. A regular on the Garibrath Express from Delhi to Ajmer, I preferred to carry my shawl and pull it over me in the AC compartment of the train right at the beginning of the journey only to get up at Jaipur, just a few hours away from Ajmer. It helped me spend an arduous journey in relative tranquility and time to recover to resume my office in the evening. While I made myself comfortable in the side berth of the train, a family of four, husband, wife, son, and daughter, settled in the adjacent berths; the other two belonged to an elderly couple. Their conversation made me realize this elderly couple wa...

As a student studying in a different city from my hometown, I had to visit the railway station frequently for my train reservations. Life was not as easy; the long winding queues and the suffocating smell of sweat, the heat, and the body-hugging closeness with people around sent shivers down your spine. A single fan on the high ceiling of the Charbagh railway station was the only source of air circulation, if there was any.  At times, we could assert ourselves and make a separate queue for ladies, but most times this feminist move would be rejected by males waiting for hours for their turn. Obviously, railways had no such provisions, at least on the booking counters, even though they provided a seat quota for ladies on the train. In those dreary hours of waiting, I could simply shift my weight from one leg to another, hoping for a miracle to happen. On the other side of the window, the booking clerk himself looked exasperated. Sweat continued to trickle down his face, and he...