Progress

I had been sleeping. Like I usually do, when I am getting back home in train. I get off at Masjid and take the return train to ensure that I get a seat, and almost always, a window seat. And then I doze off for the next 40 minutes or so.

So when I woke up, like I usually do just before the train reaches the Vashi Bridge, my mind was still in the hazy zone. The zone when you are awake but not fully awake, not fully aware of the surroundings. When the senses are not yet fully functional and you are somewhat away from reality.

I must have been dreaming something. I saw the vehicles at the road Bridge parallel to us. Their red rear lights and shiny bodies suddenly gave me a feeling that I was in some place modern. Maybe like my earlier visit to Dubai. I began wondering about the progress that my country has made. And is it going away from its roots? Its culture?

Then I suddenly saw the tempo. The 4 wheeler vehicle that is not as big as a truck, but is not as small as a Car either. That quintessential, open from the back, goods carrying vehicle, usually with agricultural produce, dispelled all my meanderings.

I was firmly in India. It was still the India I know, the India I love