Scenes from a Metro journey

Three totally contrasting scenes remain in my head after a routine Metro ride this afternoon. The first happened as I was waiting on the platform for the train to arrive. Suddenly I hear a woman’s voice, saying "excuse me, where can I get a train to Noida from?" I looked at her and said "from this platform". She volunteered some information – that she had got on to the wrong line, had changed three trains today and still didn’t know where to go. I reassured her that this was the correct line. More questions: do you also have to go to Noida, do you take the Metro everyday, how is it like? She was travelling for the first time. I was a bit taken aback – it’s unusual in today’s world for a stranger to be asking a volley of questions. Pardon me, but that’s the way we have become. We are suspicious of everything around us and trust is the first casualty. As the train arrived two minutes later, I told her she had to take this train and we got in. I saw her going to the far end of the coach. From the distance, I could now observe her without her feeling that she was under scrutiny. She was wearing a salwar kameez, with a long full-sleeve brown overcoat and her head covered in a scarf. Anyone would notice that it wasn’t very cold, even though it had been raining. In a few minutes she covered most of her face with her scarf, and only her eyes could be seen. I can’t explain what happened to me that minute. A mix of emotions went through me. One word “suspicious” cropped into my head and I tried to shake it off. I said to myself that the Metro stations were heavily guarded and security personnel would have noticed any suspicious behaviour. But that sinking feeling refused to go.

Scene two: As I was struggling to get rid of these thoughts, a lady and her young son came into the coach halfway through my journey. The boy was in uniform and it was evident his Mum had picked him up from school. Their easy chatter made me relax and I could feel the tension leaving me as I heard the boy look out towards the Yamuna river and talk to his mother as the train made its way. He was well-mannered, though was getting impatient, which is when his Mum offered him a toffee. When he asked where he should keep the wrapper, she said they would throw it in a dustbin at the station when they got down. He listened and kept it in his shirt pocket. Conversation drifted from classmates to his older sister to tennis classes and at one point he asked his Mum if she had left work early to pick him up and when she said "yes", he "i'm sorry" and I couldn’t help admiring his maturity. His Mum happily said "it’s ok" and pulled him close to her.

A few security men entered the train as I approached my destination. They were paramilitary personnel armed with rifles and bulletproof jackets. Usually, the presence of force should make you feel better but more often than not, it doesn’t. You only see a lot of them when something untoward has happened or the deployment is meant for a big event. Three of the men were huddled together and some muffled voices could be heard from one of the walkie-talkies they were carrying. The fourth man was younger, and stood a little distance away, with a hint of a smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying the ride, and kept looking around him, though not in a menacing way, but relaxed. At last my station came and they got out with me. As I walked towards the exit, I could hear one of them giving instructions to another to check something, and I wondered what had happened.

As I left the station, my mind went back to the lady with the overcoat. Should I have done something differently? Maybe she was just ill or had travelled a long way. Yesterday's firing incident was probably making me think so much. I hope and pray that she was genuine. Please forgive me for thinking otherwise. I may be guilty, but I’m also human. And just to make myself feel better, I did help her go the right way.