On the occasion of one of those mundane metro journeys to and from any destination, one comes across a multitude of people – some travellers who are never seen again, and perhaps some others who are spotted occasionally along the daily commute routes.
What struck me as a rather fascinating notion on one such ordinary metro journey was that we, as passengers, knew very little about the person seated across us. What did they do for a living? Where were they headed or coming from? What were they like as people? And the realisation dawned that more often than not, none of these questions could be answered. Every traveller was in a little bubble of individuality marked by wariness, rather oblivious to the person sitting beside them. After all, what more were they to each other than another drop in the ocean of commuters who flowed through the metro system every day?
My eyes fell on a man with a briefcase, dressed in a sophisticated business suit, and I wondered if his business acumen was just as sharp as his outfit. He seemed like the typical workaholic returning home to make more calls after a rigorous day of business proposals, stock investments and full calendars. Mere assumptions aside, for all we knew, he could have been a family man eager to get home to his wife and children for an enthusiastic movie night.
I turned my discreet gaze to the other passengers in the coach, each a victim to my game of assumptions. There was a stern, light-lipped old lady who looked like she ruled her family with an iron fist, and beside me, a young lady was checking how photogenic she was before clicking a selfie that was immediately uploaded online.
The former seemed like the sort of matriarch who was more feared for her rules than loved for her maternal affection. The latter seemed like the sort of stereotypical college girl who lived more of a virtual life than a real one.
The traveller’s facade is a complicated mask that can be peeled through by an observer only after close, continuous, and unbiased evaluation. The stern matriarch may have been a kindly old lady on the way to see her grandchildren. The young shutterbug may have decided to opt for a bold, filter-free look for the day, straying from a comfort zone and promoting self-love.
As I continued my game of assumptions, I became aware that I had fallen prey to the other observers who had joined the game. I scanned the schoolboy ready to get off as the train slowed down, aware that though his demeanour signified a young, enthusiastic student, he may well have played truant for the day. I knew that the old lady across me was making her own analysis of me. That’s when I realised, with a smile of amusement, that all we ever see is the traveller’s facade. As each passenger jostles out of the train, the facade stays intact, and before long, they are lost again in a new wave of unfamiliar faces in the ocean of commuters.
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