Looking through the grilled window
Being seated on a shaky seat
The passing breeze relieves a bit
But within theres too much heat

Being pushed by a neighbor
Whos trying hard to make himself a place
He just elbowed my chest
And even stepped on my shoe lace

Theres another one in front of me
Reading a borrowed newspaper
Cursing the politicians
And praising his beloved cricketer

The crowd expands and a man moves in
Now standing at point blank range
Eyeing my precious seat
Desperately praying for a change

The neighbor begins chewing 'paan'
And on my trouser I notice a stain
To hell with Mumbai travelling
To hell with Local Train