Love between stations
The 8:23 Churchgate local was always the same— a blur of elbows, earphones, and tired eyes. But that morning, something shifted in the hum of the train. Aditya boarded from Borivali, clutching his backpack like every other day. The metal floor trembled beneath his shoes, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and half-finished dreams. He found a spot near the door—his daily seat, though it was only space. At Andheri, she entered. Meera. Her dupatta brushed against his arm like a whisper of sea breeze sneaking into the compartments. She looked ordinary-hair tied loosely, earphones tangled like poetry in motion. But her eyes carried something different: the quiet kind of strength that comes from knowing Mumbai too well—its rush, its rain, its heartbreaks. Every day after that, it became a rhythm. Aditya at Borivali. Meera at Andheri. A shared journey till Dadar. Sometimes, their eyes met in the reflection of the window—two faces layered over the passing skyline. Sometim...