Travelling by train from New York up-station is an everyday affair for me. I have never particularly made an effort to talk to people in the train even when I am sharing seats with them. To make it easier, I am an eighteen years old man who is tired of life already, tired of everyone wanting me to act grown up. I want to be free. Since I could not move out of my house, I went from cynical to being depressed. I purposely missed my station every day trying to spend as much time as possible to stay outside home. One fine morning I met this young pregnant girl who looked barely my age came and sat opposite to me.This was a very weird encounter because she barely looked anything above eighteen, nineteen by far. At my age everything around me was like a burden to me. The constant nagging by my father was that the world outside was not easy.
The constant taunts by my mother was to grow up and take responsibility, to look after my house and my younger sibling. All I could think of was that I was too young to care and to be pressurized. There sat this young lady, bright, in all probability in third trimester, reading a book. The calm nature on the face of the woman intrigued me to the point where I wanted to talk to her. I did not understand why I was so drawn to her, was it because she looked so young and was pregnant already, or was it because she looked so calm and contended with something that I had not been in months now. There was no doubt that I loved my family a lot, but now it was like all strangers living in the same house. She was reading a book. Even that posture in which she kept turning the pages, glancing out of the window into the setting sun once a while and then returning to the book was drawing my attention towards her. I wanted to talk to her.