Back to our little world. 💙

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Haseena sat quietly on the sofa, her phone resting in her lap while her thumb hovered over the screen. Her mind refused to slow down. She kept replaying Monika's words, calculating timings, thinking through possibilities, changing plans, rejecting them, making new ones.

After several long minutes, she finally decided.

She picked up the phone, dialed a number, spoke in low hurried whispers for barely a minute, and disconnected. A small smile appeared on her face. Peaceful. Satisfied. As though something important had finally fallen into place.

A few moments later, the bathroom door clicked open.

Karishma stepped out rubbing her damp hair, a towel wrapped around her head like an oversized turban. An old t-shirt hung loosely over her shorts, and tiny droplets of water still clung to the ends of her hair.

Haseena looked up immediately.

"Karu, apne bag se 2 jodi kapde nikal ke de do," she called casually. "Pack karne hain."

Karishma stopped walking.

"Kyu?"

"bahar jana hai"

Silence. Karishma slowly pointed at herself, then toward the suitcase still sitting in the corner.

"Di... hum literally abhi Bangalore se aaye hain. thake hue hain. Aur aap phir se packing karwa rahe ho?"

Without answering, Haseena climbed onto the bed, pulled a small duffel bag from the top of the wardrobe, dusted it once, and placed it neatly beside Karishma's suitcase.

"Maza aayega."

"Diii..."

"Chalo na," Haseena said simply, already unzipping it.

Karishma muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a complaint against elder sisters as a species. Haseena pretended not to hear it.

Instead, she quietly watched Karishma move toward the balcony.

And then she froze.

Usually, Karishma would throw the wet towel directly onto the bed without a second thought. Today, she absentmindedly shook it open, walked to the drying stand, and carefully spread it out. She didn't even seem to realize she'd done it differently.

Haseena's eyes drifted toward the perfectly dry bedsheet.

Something inside her chest tightened quietly. She missed the old Karishma. The one who left towels everywhere. The one she had to scold five times a day. The one who never thought twice before making herself at home.

Karishma returned and started pulling clothes from her bag without further argument.

"Thak gaye hain pehle hi bata rahe hain," she said firmly.

Haseena took the clothes from her and started folding them.

"Hmm."

Andheri station looked exactly the way Mumbai liked to introduce itself. Loud, crowded, and completely unapologetic about it.

The local train hadn't even stopped properly when the platform came alive. Women stepped out while another wave rushed in, somehow without colliding with each other. It looked less like public transport and more like a military operation that everyone except Karishma had been secretly trained for.

Karishma stood frozen, watching one lady after another. Every single one had their backpack hanging in front instead of behind.

She slowly turned toward Haseena.

"Di, ye log bag ulta kyun pehne hue hain? Koi Mumbai ka dress code hai kya?"

Haseena smiled. "Nahi. Safety." She pointed toward the crowd. "Peeche pehnoge toh chain, phone, purse... sab gayab."

Karishma nodded slowly, processing this. Then she looked at another aunty boarding ahead of them.

"Aur jis tarah chad rahe hain, bag peeche rakha toh khud aage bag peeche, puri tarah latak jayenge."

Haseena laughed and pulled her forward.

Before Karishma could ask another question, the crowd behind them moved. Or rather, it decided everyone else was moving too. The next thing Karishma knew, someone lightly pushed her from behind, another woman steadied her arm so she wouldn't lose balance, and within seconds she found herself standing inside the ladies' compartment.

She blinked at Haseena.

"Hum chadhe kab?"

Haseena adjusted her grip on the overhead handle, completely calm. "Mumbai mein train tumhe chadha deti hai."

Karishma stared at her for a moment. "Ye jagah dangerous hai."

Luckily, a middle-aged aunty sitting near the window noticed the exhausted look on Karishma's face and called out warmly.

"Beta, idhar aao. Ye seat khali ho rahi hai, tum baith jao."

Before Karishma could even thank her, the aunty stretched her shopping bag sideways. It looked innocent. It wasn't. Two other women who had been quietly aiming for the same spot were blocked instantly, one looking disappointed, the other accepting defeat with the dignity of someone who knew today's battle was lost.

Karishma quietly sat down near the window. For the first time that day, her sore muscles relaxed and the cool breeze from the window brushed against her face.

She let her eyes close.

Exactly three seconds later —

Poke.

Karishma opened one eye. A lady wearing a bright red bindi and enough gold jewellery to open a small showroom was looking at her with complete seriousness.

"Beta, kahan utroge?" she asked politely.

"CSTM, Aunty," Karishma answered.

The lady nodded once, then nodded again.

"Theek hai. Toh tumhare baad seat meri. Reserved samjho."

Karishma stared at the seat beneath her, then back at the lady.

"Aunty... hum abhi just baithe hain."

Before the conversation could go further, another aunty leaned in from the opposite side.

"Beta! Agar utho toh mujhe dena seat, haan?"

Karishma looked left. Then right. Then left again. For some reason, she had become public property.

She smiled weakly. "Abhi bohot time hai station aane ko."

"Haan toh theek hai," the second aunty said reasonably. "Itna der kya karogi? Utho toh de dena."

The first aunty nodded in full agreement. "Tab tak baitho. Bas yaad rakhna... tumhare baad mera number hai."

Karishma slowly leaned back. She wasn't sitting anymore. She was apparently borrowing the seat on behalf of the general public.

Five minutes passed. Two stations came and went. And the entire time, both aunties watched her with the calm, unblinking focus of trained surveillance officers. Every time the train swayed slightly, they leaned forward together, checking whether Karishma had shifted her weight. One of them was already gripping her bag handle, prepared to move at a moment's notice.

That was enough.

Karishma stood up without a word, picked up her bag, and looked at both aunties with a tired smile.

"Lo Aunty. Ab chain se baithiye."

Before the sentence was even complete, the first aunty had already claimed the seat. The second one sighed dramatically, accepting her fate with the grief of someone who had truly given their best.

Karishma blinked. There were still nearly ten stations left. Almost forty minutes. She had willingly surrendered.

Dragging herself through the crowd, she reached Haseena and grabbed the overhead handle beside her. Haseena looked at her, then at the now-occupied window seat, then back at Karishma.

"Do station mein haar maan li?" she asked, struggling visibly to keep a straight face.

Karishma looked completely done with life. "Woh log mujhe dekh dekh ke jeene nahi de rahe the."

Haseena immediately turned toward the window. Her shoulders started shaking.

"Haso mat," Karishma warned.

"Hass nahi rahe."

"Jhoot."

"Hmm."

Karishma let out a long sigh and squared her shoulders with new resolve.

"Aaj ke baad hum khade hoke hi travel karenge. Seat ka stress hi khatam. Peaceful life."

Haseena raised an eyebrow. "Accha?"

"Haan," Karishma said firmly. "Tension nahi. Standing only."

Exactly at that moment, a lady standing near the door tapped her arm.

"Beta, andar jao na. Door pe kyun khade ho? Logo ko utarne mein dikkat hogi."

Karishma nodded politely and turned toward the inside of the compartment.

Then froze.

There was not a single inch of space visible. Women were standing shoulder to shoulder in every direction. Someone was somehow reading a newspaper. Someone else was eating roasted chana. One aunty had fallen asleep while standing, completely upright, completely peaceful.

Karishma slowly turned back.

"Andar..." She pointed carefully. "Jagah kahan hai?"

The lady looked inside, thought for exactly two seconds, and said with full confidence, "Arrey, bohot jagah hai."

Before Karishma could recover from that, another aunty materialized from somewhere behind her.

"Beta, kahan utroge?"

Karishma looked at her cautiously. "CSTM."

The aunty smiled and pointed at the exact square of floor where Karishma was currently standing.

"Accha. Toh CSTM aane se thoda pehle tum utarne ke liye ready hona, hum yahan aa jayenge."

Karishma looked down at the tiny patch of floor beneath her feet. Then at the aunty. Then at Haseena.

"Di," she called quietly.

Haseena looked at her with an expression that said she already knew something had gone wrong.

"Yahan khade rehne ka bhi reservation system hai kya?" Karishma asked with complete seriousness.

That was it. Haseena burst into laughter, this time making no effort to hide it. Even the aunties around them smiled, and one of them patted Karishma's shoulder affectionately.

"Beta," she said warmly. "Mumbai local mein sabka number aata hai."

Karishma looked around the compartment one final time. Then she slowly nodded.

"Haan," she said, exhaling dramatically. "Bas hum hi syllabus ke bahar nikle hue the."

By the time the automated speaker announced CSMT, Karishma was already inching toward the door well in advance, having learned her lesson about Mumbai timing the hard way.

The crowd emptied them out onto the grand historic platform. Cool evening air finally hit their faces. Karishma adjusted her crumpled t-shirt and stretched her arms while Haseena walked beside her, the quiet traces of laughter still clear in her eyes.

"Amma yaar Hasu Di," Karishma said, genuinely bewildered. "Yahan ki janta khade-khade so jaati hai, aur jo baithta hai usko chain se jeene nahi deti. humara dimaag poora ghum gaya."

She turned toward Haseena, who was looking up at the giant station clock with the small secretive expression she always wore when she was extremely pleased with herself.

"Ab toh batao," Karishma said. "Hum CSTM kyun aaye hain? Yahan se kahan ki train hai hamari?"

Haseena looked back at her. Her eyes were brighter than they had been in weeks.

"Chalo toh sahi," she said simply.

.

If you've ever travelled in a Mumbai Local... you know Karishma wasn't exaggerating. 😂🚆

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𓂃 🖋️ 1622

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Honestly... this story never got the response I thought it would from the very beginning.

At one point, I seriously thought about drafting it and moving on. I even uninstalled Wattpad two days ago and now I only upload from my laptop.

But after thinking about it for a long time, I decided I'll complete the chunk I've already planned.

After that... we'll see. Maybe the rest of this journey depends on whether this story finds its people. 💙