Arrested Time

It's 9.45 A.M , the train pulls into Pune station.A few minutes pass. There’s a delay. People are gathering on the platform. Voices. I leave my seatto investigate. A young man appears to have ‘OD’-edon the platform. Another young man, proficient infirst aid, squats beside him. He feels for a pulse, ormovement of the chest, signs of life. I encouragethe fellow next to me to touch the comatose man, use our body warmth against the ever-cooling night.A young woman has just rung for an ambulance.The train driver asks if the two men can stay besidethe collapsed victim of drugs until medical assistancearrives. As I stroke the man’s forehead I wonder whoseson is he? What has brought this young body to the brink?Who supplied the drugs? I am glad that basic human feelingsstill exist in our suburbs. People do care, do want to help.But our stations now feel abandoned. No-one can convinceme that video surveillance can ever be as effective as the presence of station staff. The Prime Minister’s ‘druginitiative’ may need to look at these isolated incidents andmake a greater effort to understand why people are riskingtheir lives for a temporary ‘high’. Is this young manunemployed, or homeless … or affluent and bored?I can’t rest easy with his after-image in my mind.