The compartment was packed.
Full.
Full of suit clad, gadget loving, bespectacled Educated class. These were the men and women of character, or synonymously, the ones with the money. Those who walked the talk, thought out of the box and were always on the same page. These were the people that had kept the dream of a Utopian world alive-the Dream Merchants. Simply put, they were the ones with the greener grass on their side; Always. They were lost in their own world.
Pleasing. Beautiful. Cultured. Powerful. Sharp.
He was a misfit; an Anomaly, if you will. Despite being an octogenarian, he was oblivious to the pace of this world, or at least he was made to believe so. He was everything that could be wrong. He was the tragedy that though never happened, yet was remembered by all. He was the reason for disruption of world peace, recession and most of all, global warming. No one knew exactly why they hated him but he definitely was the biggest nemesis.
Too slow. Too old. Too weak. Disturbing. Unkempt. Smelly.
His very presence in the compartment was enough to invite stares. He was unwanted and uninvited despite being a law abiding ticket holder.
He looked around in anticipation of a vacant seat. There were a few, but they were swiftly taken by the expensive backpacks and coats. The whole compartment worked in perfect harmony to deny him a seat. Once again, humiliated by his own destiny, he looked down, dejected.
“Sir! Come, you can sit here”-someone called in a loud rustic voice
Suddenly his eyes saw someone who looked awfully similar- another Misfit, albeit younger, who somehow had managed to infiltrate the aristocrat class, and was sitting. His neediness found an unexpected reassured look. Although, he got some stern looks, he ignored. He too was lost in his own world.
He gathered his belongings to get up.
It’s only when he pulled out crutches from under his seat that a sizeable number of eyes dropped in shame.
Photo Courtesy- Google Images
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