Railway Chronicles: Taking a Taxi

I always consider taking a taxi.

Every time I land in Bombay, I take an auto to Santa Cruz station. Then I come back the next time and consider taking a direct taxi again. But I never do.

Railway Chronicles: Oestrogen

I love the sound of a woman laughing.

Railway Chronicles: Gridlock

It is very easy to get angry at a woman who pushes you off a moving train. It felt like a reasonable reaction too. Especially at Bandra, which is a queen at making you feel like your face and your hair are playing tug of war with your brain. Sometimes I stand in the train with my bag on my head wondering what a world in which single file entry and exit onto the train was enforced would be like. It seems so ideal. But being a development studies student and an urban Indian, with a newfound political identity, I am suspicious of anything ideal. What’s ideal, anyway? At what point in our lives do we start to prefer ideal to human?