Don’t grow up, it’s a trap. Please mind the gap.

It’s been so long since anything even remotely amusing has happened in my life. Thank you, lockdown. I have no content. I have been thriving on recycled material. Now, I’ve run out of that too. I now find the silliest events funny. Even the silliest non-sensical ones like getting caught in the automatic metro doors when two of your friends couldn’t make the decision to get in or wait for the next one, in time. Result – one friend inside the metro coach; the other on the station. Me, flailing like a bug that has been hit with a swatter, but mind you, the swatter covered only like 20% of the arthropod’s body. Get it? The swatter is a metaphor for the metro doors. To add shame to injury, in the short time interval between that station and the next, I was showered with bamboozled gazes and quirks on how careless a person I was from random strangers. Boy, don’t people like to judge. Time is relative, indeed. The longest it ever took the metro to reach the next station. Why couldn’t they have just laughed at me? Because I was. Laughing. Sometimes, when you see someone fall over, maybe, laughing at them is not such a bad personality trait. SOMETIMES. Can we normalise this? Sincere request from a person who has faced an unusual number of incidents related to metros. I might have fallen face-forward a couple other times.

Seriously, the thing I miss the most in this lockdown is the Delhi metro. It has been a source of endless memories and some really stupid fun times. The Delhi metro cannot be compared to the Lucknow metro. I get the fact that the Lucknow metro has not been around for that long and I am mindful of the ‘glow-up’ journey that it currently is under. See, first and foremost, the construction and operation of the Lucknow metro in itself was off-putting for me because it RUINED the view from my balcony. (Yeah, some other building that have come up in the last few years are also to be blamed.) Earlier I could see the most amazing sunsets from my balcony. Even if it was just over some far-off building but still, it was much better than seeing the sun set over the tin shed structure of a metro station. In addition to that, when the Lucknow metro is actually functioning it looks like its weaving in and out of the buildings that I can see from my balcony, which to be honest looks pretty dope and creates some mesmerising reflections. Also, its location is terribly convenient.

Oh no, I was supposed to be ranting against the Lucknow metro. Right. Okay. So, the actual functioning of the Lucknow metro is terrible in terms of its suspension (if that’s the right word to use here). Abrupt and uncomfortable stops and starting with unpleasant jerks. Moreover, the slow speed (in comparison to the Delhi metro) and brief stops at stations (to make up for the time lost because of slow speed). Should I be writing a letter to the Metro Corporation? But what am I going to say? Please hire better metro operators? I can actually visualise a Metro Corporation official having an extra oily kachori, using my letter as a plate. But wait. That is incorrect. I’ll obviously be mailing the letter. Where was I going with this? Where am I going with my life? No clue. But my companion in these metro adventures, Paridhi summarised our learning is this beautiful desi shayari.

Agar pehle se khadi ho,

To doosri ke liye pratiksha karein

Yaatriyon se anurodh hai, khadi gaadi me na chadein!

Kyuki dibba ruka hoga par darwaaze rukenge nahi,

Tum daudoge tez par poore andar ghusoge nahi.