I am always curious about the lives of my fellow travelers. Sometimes They strike up a conversation and I ask them. Mostly I just make up their stories in my mind. Tales of friendship, love, betrayal; break ups and make ups. Stories of faith. Victory, valor, sometimes failure.
Snatches of overheard conversations, the book they reading, that look on their face while listening to particular song, the way they meticulously delete all their text messages tell you a lot about people and their lives.
While using public transport, I play a guessing game of who will get off where.
Those children at the back, with big books- college stop. If they look tense, on the way to a test. That aunty with a with basket- she’s probably going to the market to get veggies for lunch. Woman in a sari draped the Gujrati way – Parle station. The game keeps me entertained and helps me get a seat! But more than that, it helps you get under peoples skins.
Winning the game is easy, when you know the city and it’s people. In a new place it’s just guesswork. Over a period of time, one starts profiling based on observations, information and instinct. Then a day comes, when you can tell all their stories quite confidently. And you know, that the city has let you into her heart.