I sat in a local train headed towards Taki from Sealdah station. I did not have too much luggage with me. Just a bag with clothes and other bare necessities in it. This was the third time I was visiting Taki. The first time after Shraddha and I separated.

I looked out of the grilled window, at the fields racing past. I was fortunate that I had managed to get a window seat and the train was rather empty. A very unlikely sight on the usual day.

However my fortune was not meant to last. The train stopped and with  dismay I witnessed an unbelievably large crowd on the station awaiting to board the train. I grabbed tight onto my luggage and tried to spread myself as wide as I could to create the illusion of lack of space on that seat.

Needless to say my attempts were futile.
Like a heedless breaker the people poured in. Almost a dozen of them raced towards my seat. Even though three people were already sitting there, no stone was left unturned by the newly arrived passengers to squeeze themselves into the narrow seat by any means possible.

The stench of their dirty rags pressing against my freshly ironed shirt nauseated me to my very core. Even when five of the passengers had squeezed themselves into a human sandwich on the wafer of a seat, more people tried to make their way into the choking blend. When force attained nothing, the shouting began.

"Just move a little there is space," A man shouted at me in Bengali.

I did not bother to reply and instead busied myself with my phone. It was safer to keep the mobile in hand. With these rustics you never know.

The space in front of the seat was also filled with a deluge of stinking bodies. There was not even enough air for me to breathe. It was simply unbearable. I had always travelled first class and had it not been for my presently deteriorating financial condition, I would have been travelling at ease and not in this pathetic coffin.

Meanwhile a kid, not more than five, seemed to develop a strange affinity towards my phone. Natural, I thought. These illiterates probably had not even heard of an iPhone before.

Nevertheless, I was quite annoyed by this kid's sudden elevation of curiosity. It was fine till when he kept staring at the rose gold cover of the phone with a finger in his mouth (even though this was rather disturbing) but when he decided to take the finger out of his mouth and grab hold of the phone I lost my patience.

"What the fuck are you doing you pest?" I shouted in annoyance.

The kid sprang back and people all around looked at me with astonished eyes. I realised I had shouted in English.

Though embarrassed, my fury had not been quelled.

"See what he is doing? Please hold onto him" I shouted in Bengali to the woman whom I assumed was the kid's mother since she quickly pulled the kid towards herself. She looked a bit nervous and somewhat offended.

My rage had no effect on the kid. He quickly went back behind his mother and started jeering and making faces. My anger had only amused him even more.

The train stopped again and more people hurried in. Sweat and that same abominable odor filled the compartment again. I just wished they would go. I didn't know where. I didn't know how. I just wanted them to leave. With my body being grinded like paste in the pressure I kept cursing in English under my breath. Whenever I was audible some people looked at me with frowns on their faces. It was difficult to know whether they understood me or not.

Obviously they didn't, I thought. Illiterates.