Do Not Underestimate The Aunties And The Kids

Let us talk about a travel experience unlike any other.

Forget luxury coaches quiet cabins or even predictable timings. We are diving headfirst into the glorious exhilarating occasionally baffling world of India’s local trains. It is not mere transport it is a swirling vibrant chaotic spectacle. It is a way of life for millions and once you witness it you understand why people are utterly obsessed.

Do not misunderstand this point. Local trains are far more than just a way to get from point A to point B on a map.

While the Indian railway network boasts sleek modern trains the true beating heart the real pulse of this massive system belongs to the local commuter trains.

These are the workhorses carrying the hopes the dreams the sweat and yes the occasional spilled lunchbox of vast numbers of people every single day.

If you have ever navigated the platforms of Mumbai during peak hours you are already nodding along you know exactly this glorious madness.

Here personal space is not a concept that exists. A seat is less a guaranteed right more a winning lottery ticket. And predicting precisely when the train will arrive feels like a sport in itself second only to predicting how many strangers you will inevitably be pressed against during rush hour.

Yet for all the pandemonium the chaos the sheer sensory overload there is an undeniable charm. Like that friend who is always late utterly disorganised but consistently brings the best stories and the most infectious energy the local train is impossible to quit. It gets under your skin.

No taxi no metro carriage no quiet ride in a chauffeured car can ever hope to match the sheer theatre the raw human connection the sometimes questionable but always memorable aromas of a local train commute. The entire performance begins not on the train itself but right there on the platform.

You will not find orderly queues here. That is a foreign concept.

Instead there is a buzzing electric anticipation in the air. People are not just standing idly by. They are strategising. Eyes dart along the tracks estimating where the carriage doors might align. Commuters weigh up the risks of aiming for the very edge of the coach versus plunging into the dense middle. They quickly assess others around them gauging who looks ready for the charge and who might hesitate.

If Charles Darwin the famed naturalist had been born on the Indian subcontinent he might well have skipped his voyage to the Galapagos Islands.

Instead he could have simply headed straight to a platform bound for a distant suburb at eight o clock in the morning armed with his notebook. He would have found ample material there for an updated edition of his work perhaps titled On the Survival of the Shrewdest.

You will see seasoned commuters going through pre boarding rituals. Some will subtly limber up their limbs as if preparing for a hundred metre sprint at the Olympics.

Aunties those formidable matriarchs will adjust their sarees with a determined flick movements that resemble gladiators strapping on their battle armour.

Uncles rolling their shoulders warming up ready to employ elbows with a precision that suggests rigorous training perhaps for an underground street brawl. Eye contact during this pre boarding phase is strictly for newcomers the amateurs. The veterans keep their gaze fixed on the horizon the approaching train.

Then the moment arrives. The train pulls into the station. It rarely feels like a gentle arrival more like a swaggering entrance. It approaches with the confidence of a character in a B movie villain perhaps one with a point to prove to the waiting crowd.

A collective surge goes through the mass of people on the platform. A shared breath catches in thousands of lungs. Backpacks are subtly shifted, becoming impromptu shields. The train screeches to a halt, a sound that signals the official start of Squid Games.

What follows is a breathtaking display of human determination. Bodies slam against the metalwork of the train doors and against each other. People shove, nudge, dodge & leap. You will witness feats of agility moves that would leave a parkour champion standing in awe.

It is a symphony of human will and coordinated chaos, lacking a musical conductor but gaining several extra elbows in the process.

You might be tempted in a moment of politeness perhaps fatigue to play nice. You might pause for a split second thinking of letting someone else board first.

This is an adorable notion truly. It is also precisely how you find yourself left behind waving forlornly from the platform as the train pulls away.

While you are practising civilised manners, a pint sized aunty possessing the ferocity of a tiger and the determined grip of a seasoned wrestler has already executed a flawless boarding manoeuvre.

She has claimed a prime window seat usually one with a breeze and is now calmly adjusting her bangles as if she is enjoying high tea at a luxury hotel.

Do not be fooled by outward appearances. The individuals you see on the platform might look like mild mannered accountants, quiet homemakers or unassuming students during their non commuting hours.

But when that train pulls in they undergo a rapid transformation. They channel the strategic brilliance of a chess grandmaster combined with the raw physical power of a rugby player mid scrum.

Their sensible purses double as effective battering rams. Your toes if they are anywhere near the doorway well they become collateral damage. As for your dignity it was likely left behind on the platform somewhere near the discarded plastic bottles and peanut shells.

And whatever you do do not underestimate the children.

Those tiny humans are not just passengers along for the ride. They are seat snatching savants little ninjas of the local train.

They are often raised on family legends of their father or grandfather securing a spot on an impossibly packed train years ago perhaps back in ninety eight.

They are small but incredibly scrappy diving through narrow gaps in the crowd with the precision of a seasoned football striker finding the back of the net. They do not simply board the train they conquer it.

Now by some sheer cosmic fluke perhaps a rival commuter was distracted by a sudden phone call or maybe you timed a well aimed sneeze perfectly you actually make it onto the train.

Congratulations. A new saga immediately begins. Surviving the ride itself.

If you have managed to snag a seat despite the odds consider yourself royalty for the duration of your journey.

Frame that moment in your mind it is a rare privilege. Perhaps buy a scratch off lottery ticket when you get off because clearly luck is smiling upon you today.

But if like the vast majority you are standing brace yourself for an unprecedented level of intimacy. You are no longer an individual travelling alone.

You have become a single piece in a vast human jigsaw puzzle. Your shoulder is probably wedged firmly against the back of a complete stranger.

Your arm might be contorted into a bizarre yoga pose you were previously unaware existed. Your bag is squished unceremoniously against someone elses lunchbox and you are fervently praying that whatever is inside is not leaking particularly if it is curry.

There is no opting out once you are in. You are part of the collective now.

You sway together as one amorphous unit following the rhythm and lurching of the tracks.

You breathe the same air share the same struggle and arrive together a unified if somewhat crumpled mass at the next station.

It is chaotic yes.

It is challenging absolutely.

But it is also an unforgettable vibrant slice of life.

It is the glorious madness of India’s local trains a system that works despite itself carrying millions forward every single day.