Every time I step into a railway station, an odd wave of anxiety grips me. It doesn’t matter whether I’m there to board a train, drop someone off, or simply receive a loved one- the feeling remains stubbornly intact, like an unwelcome companion. The cacophony of hurried footsteps, the blaring announcements, the sight of people navigating their way through the maze of platforms- it all adds to the unease. For the past six to seven months, I’ve travelled alone by train almost every month, yet the nervousness refuses to fade. The first time I embarked on a solo train journey, I assumed it was the unfamiliarity that caused the unease. I told myself that with time, I would adapt, that the repetitive process of booking tickets, checking seat numbers, and boarding would eventually dull the nervous edges. But as each month passes, I realise that nothing has changed. It’s strange how a place brimming with movement and life can feel so overwhelming. The station is a hub of countless stories- tea...
A seeker of stories and quiet revolutions.