Sanya ran through the crowded Chennai Central railway station, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. The weight of her backpack pulled her down, but she pushed forward, weaving through the sea of people. The overhead speakers crackled with an announcement: “Train 12627 to Mumbai departing in one minute.” Her heart pounded against her ribs as she reached the platform.
The train was already moving.
She lunged forward, stretching her arm, but her fingers barely brushed against the cold metal handle of the last compartment. The train picked up speed, its wheels screeching against the rails. She watched helplessly as it disappeared into the distance, leaving her standing at the edge of the platform, a picture of defeat.
Sanya groaned and ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. This was the third stroke of bad luck that day. First, her alarm hadn’t gone off. Then, the cab she booked got stuck in traffic. And now, she had missed the only train that would get her to Mumbai in time for her crucial job interview.
With a sigh, she plopped onto a nearby bench, her legs wobbling like a house of cards. She pulled out her phone, hoping to catch another train. The booking app blinked back at her—a full house. Desperate, she switched to a flight booking app, praying for a miracle.
As she searched, a notification from a news app popped up.
“Breaking News: Train 12627 derailed outside Pune. Casualties reported.”
Her fingers froze.
The air around her suddenly felt thick, as if time had been poured into molasses. She stared at the screen, rereading the words over and over. The train she had been chasing, the one she had been cursing just moments ago, had derailed. People were hurt. Some might be dead.
Had she… survived by missing it?
A cold shiver ran down her spine. Her stomach twisted as she imagined what could have happened had she been just a little faster. Had she reached the train a few seconds earlier, she would have been on board, caught in the chaos, trapped in a twisted wreckage of metal and smoke.
She looked up from her phone and saw the usual commotion of the station. People rushing past, announcements blaring, vendors shouting. Life moved on, blissfully unaware of the invisible hands at work.
Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t realized how quickly everything could turn on a dime, how fate had just nudged her out of harm’s way without her even knowing.
Her hands trembled as she booked another ticket. The next train was in two hours. Enough time to sit, to breathe, to let reality sink in.
Sanya leaned back against the bench, staring at the ceiling of the station. She had spent so much of her life crying over spilled milk—jobs she didn’t get, relationships that ended, plans that went up in smoke. But what if every single one of those disappointments had been a blessing in disguise? What if the universe had been quietly steering her away from disaster all along?
For the first time, she didn’t resent a setback. She didn’t shake her fist at the sky. Instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered a quiet, shaken, but deeply grateful, “Thank you.”
Two hours later, she boarded the next train to Mumbai. It was less crowded than she expected, the atmosphere tense as passengers whispered about the accident. Some read the news updates on their phones. Others sat silently, lost in their own thoughts.
The woman sitting next to Sanya clutched her bag tightly, her knuckles white. “You heard about the derailment?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sanya nodded. “I was supposed to be on that train.”
The woman gasped. “Oh my God. You dodged a bullet.”
Lucky. That word had never meant much to Sanya before. She had always felt like she was fighting against the current, trying to bend the world to her will. But maybe luck wasn’t about winning battles. Maybe it was about knowing when to step back and let life do the heavy lifting. Maybe some doors were meant to stay closed, and some missed trains were saving graces in disguise.
She turned to the woman and smiled. “Yeah. I think I did.”
As the train rolled forward, Sanya gazed out of the window. The trees blurred into green streaks, the cityscape melting into distant memories. Life, she realized, wasn’t about chasing after what slips through your fingers. It was about trusting that even the setbacks, the delays, the detours—all of it—had a reason.
Sometimes, the train you miss isn’t a loss. It’s the universe whispering, “Not this one.” And sometimes, missing a train means catching the ride of your life.
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