People moving towards the train in preparation as it whizzes to a halt
I live ten minutes from my place of work, and so don't go through the whole rigmarole of taking a crowded train first thing in the morning and last thing at night. And therefore, my memories – or at least a majority of my memories – are probably quite different from those of the larger masses. The mildly filled compartments, the evening breeze on my face as I stand by the door and watch the silhouettes of apartments spotted with lit windows - sometimes filtering through gauzy curtains, the much closer shanties with a window or a door open, laying bare to the world the life within, the temple that surprises me every time somewhere along the Vikhroli-Dadar route, and a mental note every time to look it up. The pleasures of a weekend commute.
Early morning at borivilli station
Coming from a not-so-dependant-on-trains-metro, autos were the instinctive first choice for transport. You know that trains have somewhat usurped that position when a friend, giving directions to a new year's party, suggests you take a train, and you don't think twice about it.