Mumbai-aaaaaaah! Part II: on the TRACK!

Oh k! Time for part 2 people! This happened on my first Friday in Mumbai! A colleague of mine insisted that now that we have set out together, I might as well accompany him in the train rather than going by a taxi! Background: I had been traveling by taxi all this time; lucky enough for me the place where I was staying was very close to the railway station and my destination was just the next station. That’s why my Mumbaiya friends very strongly object to me claiming that I went through the torture of the Mumbai trains. As per them traveling on such short routes doesn't qualify (:P). So anyway, that was my first rendezvous with a local train.

So we stepped into the church gate railway station, he guided me to the ticket counter (him being a pass holder) and I qued-up. An observation here: If any one gets irritated by people breaking the que and entering the line randomly, then Mumbai local train ticket counters are not for you. Of course, there are a few rather brave souls who try to object in indignation (me being one of them for the first 2 weeks) but the fate of their words is the same as that of our petitions on the ears of the administrators (who administrators is only for the few who understood this statement to get). But honestly, it wasn’t so bad at all. I mean it was much better than what I had expected. The entire ticket taking process barely took 5 minutes. So then we set for the platform. Rather big let me tell you. Never knew that local stations could be so magnificent (I had not seen VT till then). As I always say, lady luck has always been rather generous on me. The trains in our route were never packed, as they call it. Once or twice I did complain about extreme physical proximity between passengers, but as it turns out (again the source being my dear Mumbai friends): that does not even qualify as packed! We conveniently got nice places to sit (oh k, let me take back the nice.. we just got places to sit). I of course sat on the window seat and the only thing that I could focus on throughout the journey (which was only about 5 minutes again) were the rather silly posters that graced the side walls of the compartment. One particularly funny one read (and before I tell you what it said, it is imperative that I tell you it was handwritten on a rather shabby paper): “Want a job?!.. Earn Rs. 1,00,000 per month.. come and join us” .. and then a telephone number. Why I found this advertisement a funny piece of literature is something too obvious for me to disclose. And then of course the one that amused me the most read: “sharab chudayen, sharabi ko bina batayen” (meaning: make someone quit alcohol without even letting that person know). How the hell do they plan to do it?! I must admit, I was rather curious about that! My guess is they plan to tell you: “Give him coke instead of liquor when he asks for it..or hide away all the bottles and pretend as if you don’t know a thing.”

So that was my first train journey, unusually nice and comfortable. In fact, I must admit, I have become an ardent appreciator of the Mumbai local trains. If you ask me, I’d say that they are what make Mumbai go round. Ever single day after that Friday, for the rest of my stay in Mumbai I would travel by the local train, and enjoying every moment of it!

But like they way: you can’t escape the bad things forever!! And neither could I. so it happened on an evening when I decided to go to the Siddhi Vinayak temple. I had to get off at the Dadar station. The train started from Church gate the same as always: filled adequately and not packed. But as the stations went by, the number of people just seemed to multiply. I had never travelled beyond Grant Road, so had never known that the major crowd pushes in at Mumbai Central. But luckily, even at Mumbai Central, the train though packed, was yet comfortable. So I asked a co-passenger how far Dadar was. He said he’d let me know. And so he did. But funnily enough, he kept insisting that I go to the exit even before the train had started slowing down. I of course, acting smarter than what my experiences warranted, told him that I was used to the trains and could manage my way out easily. But as it turns out, I was wrong (Check list item no.2: Listen to people who seem wise especially if you don’t know sh*t about the thing lest you shall have a bruised knee). As the train went for a halt I approached the exit and reached the door around 10 second before the stop. I stood there nicely waiting the train to stop fully as the others simply dived out of the moving train. “Fools!”, I thought. Well, we all know who got fooled in the end. Soon enough I was one of the only three waiting to get out only after a complete halt. And then what I saw outside made me realize who was the fool. I stood intimidated as dozens of people eyeballing the exit door which I was supposed to get out from with bulging lustful eyes, like a bunch of hyenas eyeing their helpless prey. I knew what I was seeing, but I somehow kept hoping and believing that all of them would be nice enough to let me get out before they attack the train for whatever treasure it is that they wanted. Alas, by this time I had simply grown used to being wrong about things in Bombay. But my realization was a lil too late. The grill that I was holding soon had one, two hands, three…a zillion hands on it unavailingly trying to get in all at the same time. Before I even realized it I was pushed back rather violently. But I was not to give up. I decided to retaliate. Wrong decision again (check list item no.3: never underestimate the power of the mob! Remember the story about the father who taught his sons the value of sticking together with the help of a bundle of sticks)! I somehow managed to dive out, only to land on what I think was someone’s face, while I bag limped helplessly behind me stuck between two rather well-fed uncles. The face-landing made me lose my balance and my knew hit the grill and got bruised (see!..check list item no.2). but now was not the time to give in. I had to save my bag. I pulled with all my might. Seriously dude, stop making these decisions (check list item no.4: are u kidding me? Pulling a bag carrying fragile stuff mercilessly while it is being guarded by three huge bellies.. who does that?) so I adopted an alternate plan. Actually I don’t know what it was. I just closed my eyes and did everything I could making full use of my limbs moving them in all possible directions. When I opened my eyes, the train had stopped, my bag (phew!..aww..ill never let you out of my sight!) was in my hand (looking molested), my knee was now avenging my behavior (how dare you bruise me like that.. now bear with the pain) and the people who had got in were giving me the victorious look of disgust (hah!..that ought to teach you!). But I was happy, overjoyed..i had come out..ALIVE!

And then there were the other experiences, like the one time when I dared to go all the way to Malad from Church gate and in the middle at Mumbai central, as I had been warned, the train was blessed with half the population of Mumbai. The compartment changed from a breezy space to a place when the only air you could possibly inhale had also been already used by a dozen others.

But all these experiences made me learn a lot. I emerged (literally as in the experiencing of getting out at Dadar) as a much stronger person. And at the end of the day, I enjoyed every moment I spent in these trains. Now, after spending 1 month in Mumbai, and 3 weeks travelling only by trains, I know why they say that “Mumbai local..Rocks!.” Cos it really does. The city cannot possibly function without them. And so today, I, with heartfelt joy, declare that Mumbai trains are the veins in which life flows through the city of dreams!

And more than that .. I will always remember Mumbai locals as an experience that brought my pampered bickering on the track!