Private Story
Night Dating of Strangers
The carriages in these trains are divided into men's and women's. The one I entered during my first trip was full of empty seats and there was only one woman inside, but she said that I should not be there otherwise I would be penalized. I had to go to the men's carriage at the next stop. The place reminded me a jar full of herring. It was a mixture of the bald heads, arms, backs and mouths of the neighbors. Everyone stood so close that I could see the pores on the face of a commuter staying next to me. When the train departed or slowed down, all this human mass moved with the force of a tsunami, but it was unrealistic to fall - everything was packed too tightly. I could hardly restrain myself from kicking another commuter who stepped on my leg.
The first trips were given to me with great difficulty, but over time I was imbued with "Indian unity". Totally unfamiliar men spend an hour and a half together, hanging on the handrails of the carriage like bunches of grapes. They are not embarrassed by close contact at all, because in India, where the problem of overpopulation has existed for a long time, there is no concept of personal space.
Strangers touch each other, then get out of the carriage and go about their business. There is something intimate, incomprehensible and very strange for foreigners, who are not accustomed to such close contacts. It's like a short date of the strangers with no names.
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