The carriage smells of coconut oil, wet dhupattas*, and fried peanuts in old paper.
Forty lives pressed into one room of iron, shoulders learning strangers.
Bangles clash like reluctant wind chimes, a child sleeps across three laps.
Someone hums a Hindi song; thin as smoke, almost forgotten.
Window bars divide the sky, blue trembling in small squares.
Outside the city unravels—billboards, half-built flyovers, and a guava-seller.
Inside, time folds differently, stitched by the hoarse call of stations.
A woman unwraps her lunch, rice and curry rise like home.
Another fixes her braid, her reflection cracked in scratched glass.
There is gossip, silence, a collective sigh when the train halts.
Names are not needed when weight is already shared.
The rails sing beneath us.
I step out lighter, carrying their borrowed strength.
The train moves on, like a necklace of women strung across the city.
*Dhupatta: A long scarf/shawl won by women of South Asia.
Dr. Anamika Nath is a forensic medicine expert, researcher, and poet from India. Her creative work blends cultural, mythological, and regional landscapes with themes of resilience and memory. Her poems have appeared in journals, websites, and anthologies, some earning awards, while her research bridges science, compassion, and human survival. Instagram and X @arachneliya
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