CTS 223 observation exercise.

The crowded metro continued to push in on me and my friends long after the door was
closed and the compartments swayed with the curves in the tunnel. Today seemed to have
been a taxing day for everyone I saw around me: tired faces, sweaty, displeased, jostling
others, bickering quietly or muttering curses under their breaths. A father held his baby and
stood upright in the middle of the women’s compartment till someone yelled at him, pointing
to the board that said ‘Women Only’ and he called for his wife who was standing beside him,
pushing past the others to get out of the compartment. His hands were heavy with the weight
of his baby, who was crying, its nose running, and its face red. His wife’s nonchalant
movement while she followed her husband surprised me. I expected her to be more
expressive about her baby wailing but she made no move to console the child. The doors
opened and people shoved past one another on their way out and way in. There was not even
an unuttered agreement about who was to walk out first and who to walk in, but they
somehow made it past each other and reached where they wanted to be. An old woman
carrying a large number of pots and pans ushered a barrage of women along with her as she
entered the compartment, finding it absolutely normal to expect everyone else to shift and
give her space. Considering her age and the load she was carrying, people made way, but not
before throwing a few complaints her way. She did not feel the need to explain neither why
she was carrying so much, nor accompanied by so many. The women glanced at each other
and in silent gestures pointed out other women who, I assume, they thought were dressed
prettily. It seemed to be an activity that occupied them on such journeys. Watching their gaze,
I turned to look at said women and was distracted by the different stories and paths that each
woman in that compartment was dealing with and treading by virtue of their existence in
front of my eyes. Whether they were leaning against the metal handle bars, reading the
metro map or listening to music on their phones, each woman appeared and expressed
herself in a way that was distinct as well as uniform. The clothing, the way they talked on the
phone and the dashes of the same shade of lipstick brought in a dizzying pattern that I could
not engage myself with for too long. Soon, something else moved at the periphery of my
vision and before I could look carefully, my friend’s hand fell heavily on my shoulder as she
asked me to keep an eye out for the approaching station, which was our destination. Without
a second glance, I strode out of the compartment and into another mass of jostling bodies.
The cycle seems to never end.

Work for the weekend:

IR readings

CT readings: Nacirema and Argonauts of the Western Pacific

ECO quiz

Medieval India readings: