YESTERDAY, I went home by train; a fast train which has only four stops before my own, and thus remains comparatively uncrowded. I settled myself down and started to read my book. It slowly dawned on me that I was the only one with a book in my hand. Most of the others were otherwise engaged.

THE evening riders are a quiet, tired-out lot, catching their private time before switching gears and becoming housewives and mothers for the rest of the day. The older women sat quietly, and lapsed into a snooze. The younger ones busied themselves with their mobile phones. They plugged their earphones in, and sat holding the instruments while they tuned into their fave radio station. And so they sat through the journey, united by FM and yet in their private worlds. Once in a while, one of them would hold her mouthpiece close to her mouth and conduct a conversation, then lapse into listening once more.

I THOUGHT it was a strange world of silence amidst the clatter of the train, the chatter of the RJ and the sound of music in between. I wondered too, how many of them would, once the chores were done at home, settle in front of the television set, letting others' lives take over their own.