Waiting for a train on an Indian railway station isn’t glamorous. It’s noisy, dusty, and smells like a blend of chai, diesel, and impatience.
The loudspeaker crackles, barely audible, announcing a delay in three languages. Crows fight over leftover samosa wrappers. A dog naps unbothered near a sleeping coolie, both unaware of the chaos around.
It’s boring. Or so it seems.
Then you notice-
A chaiwala pouring cup after cup like clockwork, never spilling.
A family sitting on spread newspapers, sharing puris from a steel tiffin.
A college student staring at the tracks like they hold answers to life beyond the exam hall.
A toddler chasing pigeons with joy, not knowing that a delay just gave his parents a moment to breathe.
You look at the tracks again—rusted, old, but still taking people places.
And just like that, in the middle of nothing happening… everything is happening.
You’re waiting. Maybe for a train. Maybe for a moment that changes nothing… or everything.
The boards flicker. A delay. Again. Frustration for some. Relief for others.
And as you sit with your thoughts, surrounded by strangers—children laughing, vendors bargaining, lovers parting—you realize: India is in motion, even when it stands still.
This isn’t just waiting. This is living.
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