Call me performative, but I think the subway is the thumping heartbeat of any city. There is just something about a metro ride that makes the same giddy feeling I had as a kid when I experienced it for the first time return. The faint chimes, and the announcements of what station you’re at cutting through the cacophony of the bustling passengers rushing in and out of the train. Though I have only travelled in the metros of Delhi and Chennai, I think there is just something so earnest about the energy of the metro stations. You’ve got uni students excited to go to a villa they managed to book for the first time, to people in crisp, well-ironed shirts going to give their first job interview, to veterans all excited for a nice travel nap, all under one roof. Each metro is a sanctuary of its own, pulsing with different energies at every instant.Â
Obviously, there is a surge in the over-aestheticization of metros running wild on our Instagram reels too. Shots of wind blowing through, with someone’s curls perfectly falling into place with the chilly air because of the train passing through. However, real experiences, albeit hearty, can get a bit messy too. I think there is a wondrous joy to seek even in that. I remember one time when a friend and I were left behind at the station because of the busy platform separating us from the rest of our group. Another time, one of my friends got stuck at the ticket gate because her ticket got wet and wouldn’t get scanned. It’s moments like these that we still laugh about.Â
Every time a ticket gate opens, it’s like the opening of a portal to a different world of its own. There is a certain sense of comfort in the predictability that makes it riddled with anticipation and not mundanity. A ticket to the metro is like a ticket to a break from the chaos of the city, a ticket to just tune out, sit back and observe. The gentle sway of the metro, feining to get a good seat at a busy stop, crushing on a cutie for a moment—these are all moments that give a glimmery grit to the classic metro ride. Not to mention, there are no honking or overenthusiastic drivers trying to overtake you. Just one track. And an equalized sharing of the journey, with many stories beating loudly within each person, all overlapping, even if just for a moment, to create a symphony of its own. Maybe that’s why my journals stay stacked with metro tickets, and a card stays tucked neatly behind my phone case. Because each metro is booming with a life of its own, and how big of a missed chance would it be for me to pass on that.Â