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I didn’t buy a ticket for the economy-class Jakarta-Bogor commuter train because I wanted to; it was just the next train that was leaving the station.

I didn’t want to wait a half-hour for an air-conditioned train, which turned out to be a nearly-fatal mistake.

It was only 2 p.m. at the Tebet station, but it was packed, with many people crowding at the edge of the platform for fear of losing a chance to push onto the train when it arrived.

Looking at the waiting crowd, I hoped the train was empty, or we would all be left on the platform. It wasn’t. It creaked in overloaded, but that didn’t stop waiting passengers from shoving through every door.

I was about to get in, but seeing no space inside, I stepped out, thinking there would be another train shortly. But other people still managed to pry themselves into the cars. “If you don’t get in you’ll be here until the last train,” said a man who saw me get out. He was right. So I told myself: “No matter what, you’re getting on the next train.”

And here came that next train, just as packed. But I fought my way on. I made it! But was this a success or a step toward disaster, I wondered as I began to have trouble breathing.

I looked around and saw a sea of people packed against each other. To my right was a pregnant woman who kept sighing just to get enough air. To my right was an old man holding a rattan stick in his left hand while his right clung desperately to a handrail.

A man was sitting on my feet, bowing his head as if he didn’t want to see anything. It was hard to blame him. People were complaining, crying out, but no one could do anything. The train hadn’t even left the station, as more people crammed in. Each time someone got in, we were pushed back and forth, left and right. All we could do was hold on.

As I struggled for breath I prayed for the train to leave, assuming some people would get off at the next few stations. Wrong again. For every one who got off, even more got on.

In desperation, my mind raced, thinking about those in power — ministers, governors, legislators — who should be forced to go through this. They should know the agony of their people. I imagined them riding in their expensive cars.

Each stop failed to bring relief from the crush. The pregnant woman kept sighing. “God,” I thought, “it’s time for you to interfere in this stupid human business. Please help her.”

I didn’t know how much longer I could endure this. My arms and legs ached from trying to stay upright in the crush of humanity.

People became more compacted, so that nobody could move. The metal handrail could no longer stand the weight of so many people and it broke. All of us were shaken.

I was thrown forward into the woman in front of me and she fell against the wall. Now, the only defense was the cargo shelf. I was wondering how long it would hold up against the crush. Finally, we arrived at Bogor station — the final destination. The train was still rolling when the passengers began to rush out the doors, creating another stampede.

The train stopped. As the passengers pressed through the door, people outside rushed to get in. “Let us get off first!” some of the passengers shouted. I was carried toward the door by the crush. My BlackBerry dislodged from my belt, falling onto the track under the train.

“Get it before the train leaves,” advised a man who saw it fall. “Otherwise somebody will take it.”

So I jumped down onto the track, ducked and crawled under the train to get the BlackBerry, hoping the train wouldn’t suddenly start rolling. If it did, I was finished. I grabbed it and clambered back onto the platform, praying I would never again have to endure this in my hopefully long life.