The metro

For the second time in last 6 months, he left home in a hurry to catch the first metro. It was still dark, dogs were once again looking at him with suspicion, barking occasionally.
Ironically, his mind was restless this time too, but so much was different. Earlier, fear and guilt were the culprits. This time it was the excitement of the slight possibility that something good could happen today.

With the first step to enter the metro, he looked at his phone. It didn’t ring this time. No one called in a shivering voice to say “call me once you reach there”.
The phone was silent. So were the few early risers quietly seated inside.

The train started. His mind trying hard to convince his heart that today is indeed different. Not every time this route at this hour leads to that building with a red plus on it. A red plus and the soft music, shining floors and walls, painted with despair.

The train after, after half an hour appeared from underground. A sign that half the journey is done. Oh! He looked at that red rising sun! The most beautiful sunrise ever it could have been. He thought this 6 months back. He thought of it and his body shivered. It was Dusshera – a holiday that pleasantly came in the middle of the week. Like this time, he was sitting in the last coach. But unlike today he was then in shock, voices of a group of cheerful teenagers discussing the height of tallest Raavana (the intelligent devil that is burnt on this day) being made fell on his ears, as silent tears rolled down his cheek.

The station came and he woke to the present. It was time for the hackathon he worked so hard for. The memories were stealthily left back in the last coach, so that a new and different day could be started.

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