How Delhi Metro Turned Me Into a Parcel.

Alright, so I was at Rajiv Chowk during peak hours—aka the Hunger Games of metro travel. My only mission? Get on the Yellow Line, find a corner to stand in peace, and avoid any awkward eye contact with strangers.

The metro arrived, doors slid open, and before I could even move—BOOM! I got sucked into the train like a samosa into chutney. I didn’t board the metro; the metro boarded me.

I landed in a position that can only be described as an advanced-level yoga pose. One leg was twisted between a guy’s duffle bag, my elbow was digging into an uncle’s newspaper, and my face was inches away from some dude’s armpit (who, by the way, had clearly never met a deodorant in his life).

Meanwhile, another guy was watching Instagram Reels on full volume—some cursed remix of Kala Chashma—and vibing like he owned the place. Uncle next to me was giving him a "Beta, yeh sab sanskriti nahi hai" glare. And me? I was just trying to exist.

Then, the real tragedy struck—I felt a sneeze coming. In a metro this packed, sneezing is a social crime. People look at you like you just announced free parking in Lajpat Nagar. I tried to fight it—held my breath, looked at the ceiling, even thought about my school math teacher—but it was coming.

Just as I braced myself, the metro stopped at Kashmere Gate. And before I could even react—the entire crowd surged forward and carried me out of the train.

I kid you not, my feet barely touched the ground. One moment I was inside, and the next, I was standing outside, staring at the metro doors like an abandoned Flipkart package. My destination was still five stops away, but apparently, Delhi Metro had other plans for me.

Moral of the story: You don’t travel in Delhi Metro. Delhi Metro travels you.