The Resisting Voice

Just like other days , I left from my office at the time I usually do. The ten minutes walk from my office to the Central Sectretariat metro station's gate number one is usually the time when I talk to myself, if alone and ponder over the evening spent among senior and intellectual print journalists. As I reach the metro station and pass through the security check with a smile on my face and a touch of celerity in my body language, my eyes start looking for people having tired, weired, happy, angry and other possible expressions being carried as a tote from the day's events. Sometimes I see young couples giving a caress smile as they part ways for their separate metro lines and telling each other through their eyes and smiles"shall meet you tomorrow , pakka" , whereas students having their board exams round the corner are busy solving sums provided they get a seat or else learn something from their register, some are in rush to catch the standing train and some are...