The air inside the train was thick with reflection. The passengers' frank critiques had shifted something in the room — a new respect for the art of storytelling, but also a clear reminder of its responsibility.
Rishi cleared his throat softly, drawing the group's attention.
"You know," he began, "I imagined myself as the protagonist in that story. But honestly... it feels like a usual revenge tale. If this script was made as is, I'm sure it would get negative reviews from many. It's too predictable, too dark without hope. The audience needs more than just violence and vengeance. They want characters they can love, laugh with, and root for."
The assistant director looked thoughtful, then smiled ruefully.
"You're right," he said, voice sincere. "When you narrate a story aloud, you realize its gaps, its clichés. That's why this feedback is priceless. If I made this film without changes, it would be a loss—maybe for me, but definitely for the viewers."
He glanced at each passenger with gratitude. "Thank you all for helping me see the story's true face."
Rishi nodded. "Stories change when told with honesty—and when listeners respond with truth."
Just then, the train slowed as it approached Bhopal Junction. The assistant director's eyes caught movement outside a window — a small film crew bustling with cameras, lights, and actors in costume.
A familiar face emerged: a local celebrity, someone the director recognized from previous projects. His heart quickened.
"I have to get off here," he said quietly. "That person... it's a chance I can't miss."
The group murmured their goodbyes.
Before stepping down, the director turned to Rishi, who was still seated.
"About the things," he said with a slight smile, "I don't need them anymore."
Rishi blinked, surprised.
"Because you and your friends," the director continued, "have given me something better than any device — clarity, fresh eyes, new perspectives. This journey, these conversations... I'll keep them with me, always."
Rishi smiled warmly.
"Safe travels," he said.
The door slid shut, and the assistant director disappeared into the crowd on the platform.
The train started moving again, carrying Rishi and the others southward, their minds alive with stories — both told and yet to be told.