India, July 21 -- After wrestling through a sea of people in the sleeper class of my train journeys, I gave in to the comfort and upgraded to the AC compartment. Sure, it cost nearly three times as much, but the relief of having an assured berth without the pushing, pleading, or negotiating to reclaim the seat I'd paid for was worth every rupee. The chilled air, though artificial, brought peace. For once, I wasn't clutching my bag tightly, nor was I being nudged awake every hour by a fellow passenger claiming I was on their seat. But comfort, I soon realised, came with its own kind of chaos. The compartment buzzed with a strange new energy, not the kind born of shared conversation or spontaneous laughter, but that of digital distractions. It was a babble of screens. During my recent journey to Indore, the AC coach echoed not with the familiar rhythm of train wheels, but with a cacophony of sounds from smartphones. Videos and reels played loudly on almost every phone, as if the passengers were trying to outdo each other with the volume rather than the content. What struck me most was that even elderly travellers, who once formed the moral and cultural backbone of any train journey, seemed completely absorbed in violent soap operas or garish comedy clips. Where I had once expected a polite chat or a shared thermos of tea, I now saw glowing screens and furrowed brows. Children, who traditionally found fascination in the blur of trees and fields or in board games, now spend hours hunched over screens. War games with relentless firing blared from their phones, drowning out the peace of the journey. Ironically, not a single fellow traveller was seen with a newspaper, magazine, or book in hand. That's when nostalgia swept over me. I was transported back to my childhood train rides when rail journeys meant reading marathons. We'd pack comics, story books, mystery novels, and sometimes even borrowed books would be our companions. One of the highlights of such trips was buying from the platform book stalls when the train stopped. The iconic Wheeler stalls were treasure troves for young readers like me. We didn't just read our own books, we exchanged them with fellow passengers. Reading was not a private activity, it was a shared joy. Often, I would finish a comic and swap it with another passenger's Amar Chitra Katha or Tinkle. Conversations would spark over a story or character. We were strangers yet connected through our shared love for stories. I still carry a novel or two when I travel, out of habit and hope. But I no longer expect to find someone to discuss it with. Most passengers are glued to their phones, even when there's little to see or do. Another bitter truth is that the book stalls on railway platforms are vanishing. Once vibrant with racks of magazines, thrillers, and children's comics, they are now replaced by snack counters and kiosks selling mobile accessories. This isn't a rant against technology. Mobile phones have revolutionised access to information, brought entertainment to our palms, and connected us in ways our books never could. But there's something deeply personal and grounding about a book. Something that a reel or a meme can never replicate....