Words on Wheels

It was a regular Sunday, and Sky’s home was my church. I stepped into the ladies’ coach of the metro to pay my visit. I had been looking for a job at that time. Four months of rejection. And just the day before, I had ruined another interview for this bigshot company. I used to always crumble down when I would tell Sky about it. But when I was with him, he made it just fine. It was during the metro rides — on the way and back — that I would think of how I would never land a job I’d like.

Metro always felt like home to me. It was so predictable that I could comfortably get lost in my thoughts. I could tell how comfortable the passengers were with the route just by the look on their faces. Regular commuters got up lazily to walk to the door right before their stops. Others, who were unfamiliar, would get up way before and try to predict which door would open. Meanwhile the vacant seats wouldn’t remain alone for too long. Those standing by would dart towards it in a race for the throne.

That day, too, everything was just as I expected. Until I heard someone say. “Hi, everyone! I’m not trying to sell anything.” The woman stood at the extreme end of the coach, taking support from the pole in case the metro pulled its usual sharp breaks.

Okay, this was not predictable. I was confused and scared. It felt like addressing an entire coach would require some emergency.

She continued. “I just like to talk to my ladies whenever I travel and today I want to talk about courage.” A wave of relief took over me. I hadn’t predicted someone might just have wanted to… talk to us.

When I spoke to her after her talk, she mentioned, “I started doing this around the third year of my graduation. It’s been almost a decade or so. The reason why I started was simply that I saw people traveling every day in the metro. You know, we’re in between people and yet we are by ourselves. I saw that as an opportunity where people can really interact with each other and share the many stories behind every face, which can inspire us.” I was truly surprised that I never ran into one of these talks despite their long life.

During the talk that day, Jaahanvi went on to discuss how she first got the courage to speak up in the metro. She decided she won’t be hooked on people’s reactions to what she did. She would do as she had planned because she wanted to try. She ended with the hope that we’d someday be brave enough to do what we wish to. The two-minute speech received applause.

Jaahanvi didn’t quite mention this in the talk but when she was toying with the idea of the talk, she’d get so nervous that her hands would start shaking and she’d put it off to the next day. Courage came to her when she told herself that it’s now or never — and definitely not “tomorrow”. Her first talk finally happened on the Yellow line when she was traveling from HudaCity Center to Saket. Happiness was one of her first topics. Smart move. It’s so universal.

“My topics come from our daily values,” she explained to me. “Something that has been taught to us in our childhood but we have probably lost as we have grown up because of the complexities of life.” She has always tried to drive her motivational tidbits home by focusing on one key actionable message and illustrating it with an example of when she used it in her own life. She has realized she does not have a voluntary audience and has mastered how to keep it short.

“I don’t travel daily in the Metro anymore.” Unsaid, we both understood how Covid ruined it for her. “But every time I do, I feel it is my responsibility to do it because of the compact I’ve seen it create.” She told me how her talks have not only been conversation starters but have also lifted her co-passengers’ moods. They even inspired another woman to give talks about yoga in the metro.

“Even if I can impact one person positively — that’s the only focus area for me. And that is what keeps me going.” She reiterated.

“Well, for those two minutes, I definitely did not worry about my job.” I replied.