My numb fingers took the pen out of my reliable red jhola. The auto ride to the Shivajinagar Railway Station at 6 a.m had been enough to freeze my ears and nose momentarily. I cursed Winter under my breath for finally having arrived, though inwardly smiling that it had. A resolution was made not to sleep in till noon henceforth, and also to utilize the waking hours in Pune better.
The oversized purple sweatshirt gave little warmth but I thanked my roommate for reminding me to carry it at least, even if the need did not arise in the day. Better something on the back than nothing! Remember the fate of the person who could hear the whistle blow 500 miles away?
It was odd not to see a crowded station like the Howrah station in Calcutta, where at daybreak or nightfall, crowds were never a scarcity. Other than the general want for people though, the Indian Railway Station scene was pretty much the same-a few school boys awaiting the train, the chaiwalla, the occasional man crossing the tracks, the station residents/refugees lying down on the benches with their scanty blanket and monkey caps, that only revealed their eyes and nose to the passersby...
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