God's Own Dilemma

Sometimes or should I say more than often, I doubt my existence. I know I do exist physically and at least some people can corroborate the fact, but this is not the evidence that matters to the world at large.

Recently, when mumbai was marooned and transpost network was at disarray, we were stranded at Dadar station. There, crowd was huge and every single square feet was occupied. The restroom, the platform, the foot-over-bridge, the single express train that remained cancelled, all places were saturated. The floor everywhere was wet because of the incessant cat and dog rain, and the restless-uncertain and aimless feet. People were roaming, standing or if fortunate enough leaning against the wall, column or anything they found. Outside the station, water had rose waist high which could be worse a little far. People from Mahalaxmi, Chuchgate, Parel and other small stations had already gathered here before water soar critical level. Commuters had the general idea of the locality and did not bulge out of the safe place. True, platform is one the safest places in India, barring the railway officials and guards who may wish to earn some easy money and occasional thieves. Numerous nights I have spent on platforms, reading books and remaining clutched to my belongings at the relatively unused part of it. That night there was no such luxury.

I realised that I was lost in the tiny world, that I did not matter to anyone except myself and that my stay was meaningless and was for my own surival, as the rest of my life had been. I was running our of patience and the nightmare was seemingly neverending. Of ourse, Richard Dawkins was true, I (or my genes) was/were ensuring my/their own survival and I was no different. Oh..something pricked at my conscience....why should I, at the first place, wish to be different ? I am one of them, as selfish and social as anybody else suffering the nature's fury at the "human-shade"-Dadar. I was also looking for some dry place to rest on, and jealously kept it occupied as others had done. Advertisement hoardings, featuring beautiful celebraties and models had been beds for tired working class poeple, but wasn't that my idea just did not materialised because we were good boys ! So why was the longing to be different ? Did I solicit attention, or hero worship or at least stand out in the crowd? Obviously not that much. I wished special privilege for myself, to get back to ***, to have a good night's sleep. Alas, I was not lonely in thinking so.

I could not breathe more, the compartment of the only train standing was suffocating. The filthy odour form the toilet has filled it, which was frequently being used. I sprung out of the precious little space we shared in the upper berth and rushed out of the train. "Prabin...Prabin" cried out Ranjeet, "panch hi baje he ek ghanta our sut le". His voice was suggesting he was too struggling to catch forty winks. I could not stop. Ambivalence had made me impassive. I knew i could not be assured of my existence, the individuality was lost and only names and faces were floatin.....