I’d never been to Mughalsarai before this. It seemed to exist on its own plane, a place of reverence for those who travelled on the Indian Railways. It had giant marshalling yards that could be seen from space and a station so huge that it seemed excessive for the small town it sat in.
Yet, the scene I saw myself most drawn into was this. A lonely, abandoned magazine cart. A few square feet of isolation in an otherwise unrelenting busy-ness.