Delhi Metro:- Hayati

The Delhi Metro is crowded. Some people are sitting on seats, some are standing, lost in their mobile phones. The sound of the metro is humming, and suddenly there is an announcement on the speaker, “Next station is MG Road. Doors will open on the left.” People start preparing for their respective destinations.

Meanwhile, a girl, Hayati, is running up the stairs of the MG Road metro station. Her dupatta is blowing in the wind, and her face is shining with sweat. She reaches the metro door just at the last second and jumps in, panting. The doors close, and the metro starts moving. Hayati heaves a sigh of relief, looks around, and sits on an empty seat. The crowd is now slowly thinning. She closes her eyes due to fatigue and the gentle jolts of the metro and falls asleep.

When Hayati wakes up, the metro is completely empty. No passengers, no sound. The doors are open, and the platform outside is deserted. Her heart starts pounding. She stands up and looks outside. Her face turns pale when she sees the name of the station—she has already passed Kashmiri Gate. But this station? It doesn't look familiar.

She quickly gets off the metro and runs to change platforms to catch another train. But after waiting for minutes, no metro arrives. Hayati checks the time on her phone—12:00. She is worried. She had to be home by 10! She calls her father, but the phone doesn't ring. The network bars are also missing. She thinks that maybe the network will come when she gets out of the station.

She runs towards the stairs, but she doesn't see any exit. There are only closed walls and empty corridors on all sides. Her heart is pounding. She looks around for help, but there is no one in the station. She tries calling again and again, but each time it's the same silence. The same time on the phone screen—12:00. She thinks the clock on the phone is broken.

Exhausted, Hayati sits down on a bench. Hunger and fear surround her. Then she sees a Delhi Metro policeman walking down the aisle. She quickly gets up and runs after him. “Sir! Sir! I'm stuck here, please help me!” her voice echoes, but the silence of the station swallows her up.

The policeman stops, but doesn't turn immediately. His silhouette is strange, absolutely still. Hayati's breathing quickens. Something feels wrong. “Sir?” she calls out again, in a trembling voice. Slowly he turns, and Hayati freezes. His face is blurry, like a photograph whose face has been erased. His badge shines, but the nameplate is blank.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says in a low, hollow voice, as if it were coming from far away. “Nobody should be here.”

Hayati steps back. “Where am I? What station is this beyond Kashmere Gate? I need to go home!”

He tilts his head, and for a moment the haze on his face ripples. A horrified look appears—hollow eyes, which immediately disappear. “This is not a station,” he says. “This is the middle path.”

Hayati’s heart thumps. “The middle path? What does that mean? Please, get me out of here!”

He comes closer, and the air gets colder. “The Delhi Metro tracks lead to stations, but some lead here—where time stops, where lost people arrive when they miss their stop. Hayati, you didn’t just miss Kashmere Gate, you missed time.”

Hayati's phone vibrates. She looks—it's 12:00 on the screen, but the numbers are blinking, as if the phone is broken. She looks at the policeman, who is now very close. "The phone won't work here," he says. "Nothing works here, unless you find your way."

"How do I find my way?" Hayati asks, crying. The station seems smaller, the walls are closing in, the lights are dimming.

"Get on the right train," he points to the platform. Then there's a rumble. A metro arrives, but it's no ordinary metro. Its windows are black, and strange symbols are flashing outside, as if they were alive. The doors open, and inside there's a shadow of red light.

"Get on," he says. "But choose carefully. One train will take you home. The others… somewhere else."

Hayati stops, her mind thinking fast. She looks at the policeman, but he has disappeared, as if he never existed. The platform is empty, except for the train, whose doors are open. She moves closer, peers into the red-lit metro. Inside, she sees blurry figures—people, or maybe not people, sitting silently, their faces drowned in shadow. A whisper comes, “Hayati… Hayati…”

Her phone rings again. A word flashes on the screen: RUN. She shivers in fear, but the platform behind her is now shrouded in darkness, the stairs leading nowhere. Then there is another rumble, and another metro arrives on the other side. This metro looks normal—blue and white, with flashing lights, like the Delhi metro. But something feels too right, as if it is an illusion.

Hayati doesn’t know what to do. Two trains, two routes. She remembers the policeman’s words, “Choose carefully.” But how? Then she remembers what her grandmother once said. “If you ever get stuck in a place that feels wrong, trust the thing that is the most frightening. The safest path is often a lie.”

Hayati takes a deep breath and walks toward the red-lit, symbol-covered train. Her legs are trembling, but she can’t stop herself. As the doors start to close, she boards the train. The whispers grow louder, but they don’t seem scary anymore—they seem guiding. The train starts moving, and everything outside the windows becomes a blur—a storm of colors and shapes.

But she doesn’t realize that a small symbol has appeared on her wrist—the same symbol that was on that train. It’s glowing faintly, as if it were alive under her skin. And somewhere, on the way, the policeman is watching her reflection, a smile on his blurred face. “You chose right,” he whispers. “But you will come back.”

Just then, Hayati hears a voice suddenly ringing in her ears, “Next station is Kashmiri Gate.” Her eyes open. She is in the metro. There are people all around, everyday atmosphere. She wakes up startled, drenched in sweat. Was it all a dream? She quietly gets off the metro and goes out, but the faint mark on her wrist is still there, which probably no one else can see.