Mumbai Local

When I think of Mumbai and its wonders, it is very difficult to avoid the Mumbai local train. With 7.24 million daily commuters, amounting to 2.64 billion annually, it is truly the lifeline of Mumbai. One day’s disruption of its services during Mumbai’s atrocious monsoon leads to several empty offices and huge opportunity losses. All through these years, I have had a gamut of experiences which I share here.

My First Swear!

I would be 7 then, when my parents and I had to travel to Borivali. We took two full and one half tickets and were waiting for a train at Ghatkopar station. At that time, I realized that there was a separate ladies’ compartment, which Mom would board. She asked me to join her. I refused- “I am a boy. I can’t travel in ladies’ dubba!” She smiled. I would soon realize the reason behind the smile. As Dad and I stood, a crowded local arrived. My Dad, being him, tried to board it [missing a train would hurt his ego (something which is probably in my genes!)].

Ok, the train was crowded, but not as crowded as the picture above. However, I was so tiny that as I stood, I could barely breathe and had to jump to gather some air. “How many stations”, I asked. “5!” Kurla gave me a few seconds to breathe, but it was short-lived, as more people got in than got out! I started sweating. No air. Like a little warrior, I pushed people aside to make some space, but in vain. And in midst of all this, one man stamped on my foot, and I uttered the then unthinkable, “Saale! Kutte!!"

I quietly followed my Mom into a ladies’ compartment at the changeover of trains at Dadar!

“Pudhil Station: Ghatkopar….

Agla Station: Ghatkopar….

Next Station: Ghatkopar”

-         -  Oh!! Shut up!!!

I know many of you would have slowed down and recited the above lines in the typical sing song way it is announced in trains! It’s irritating, agreed, but yeah, useful. But I don’t understand why the same station is differently named in the three languages- Vandre, Bandre and Bandra, the last one pronounced as Ban-draa, almost with an accent! Also, the platform announcements about delay/ cancel of trains is only in Marathi. So, some foreigner who wishes to travel independently and waits for a train scheduled at 5:07 will never know it is delayed. But then, the Railways will ask me two questions:

1      Why the hell will a foreigner risk travelling alone in Mumbai trains? He’ll either be robbed, or will never dare board the train!

2       Has the 5:07 ever arrived at 5:07? He can catch the next one!

Cheating!

Ok! This one I have observed personally and regularly. I was once waiting for a fast train to Thane, when there was a platform announcement (in Marathi only, of course) that a slow train to Thane is arriving shortly on another platform. Now, the difference between the travel time of a fast train and a slow train is merely 10-15 mins. But these are 10-15 mins of a Mumbaikar’s life! So I inferred from the announcement that the fast train might be delayed and it’s better to catch the slow one. I climbed up some 30 stairs to the bridge, climbed down 30 stairs to the other platform and what do I see? The fast train had arrived! And the slow train arrived a good 10 mins later. 

What the @#$*! 

At another instance, when a friend and I were waiting for a fast train, a similar announcement was made. He asked me to change the platform. I asked him to hold his ground. 2 mins passed. He got fidgety. He almost climbed up 10 stairs and literally pleaded with me to change my mind, as we were getting late. And then, Voila! The fast train arrived first! 

You may be smart, Miss Platform Announcer, but experience makes one smarter!

Virar fast

My love with fast trains landed me on a Virar fast once, when I wanted to reach Borivali. So there is an unsaid understanding for the Virar fast- the long distance train stops at fewer stations and saves a helluva lot of time for people boarding from Borivali. So if you were to alight at Borivali, better board a train whose last stop is Borivali, as such a huge number of people board the Virar fast at Borivali that it is virtually impossible to alight there.

Naturally, I didn’t know this! “Borivali, which side”, I asked a guy, who twisted one of his eye brows and reverted, “Want to get down at Borivali? This is Virar Fast! Get down at Virar!” 

Me, “???” 

And then he explained me the situation. So what did I do? I made the cutest puppy face I could, brought small tear droplets to my eyes and pleaded to be allowed a chance to get down! I stood right at the door, as Borivali approached. Loads of people waiting for this train. Shit! I jumped out when the train reached a comfortable slow pace, but still running. Moments later, I gathered myself and my twisted glasses, reached out to my pocket to see if my wallet was in place. And it suddenly dawned upon me- I had done the impossible!!

Disclaimer: These stunts are performed by people riding on mere luck. Please do not try this!

Ticketless Travelling. Really?

I love fast trains! Not this time, though… A friend and I ran and caught a fast train at Dadar towards Dombivali and had bought tickets to Ghatkopar. Now, usually fast trains stop at Ghatkopar. This one didn’t. We realized it, when the word after ‘Pudhil station’ was Vikhroli instead of Ghatkopar. (Ya! I actually prayed that Agla Station and Next Station were followed by Ghatkopar, but weren’t.)

We helplessly saw ourselves zoom past Ghatkopar station and alighted at Vikhroli. The station master caught my friend and asked for his ticket. Now, he asked just him while I was quietly walking past, as swiftly as I could, when the little Einstein called me, “Devarsh! The TC is asking for ticket.” 

Me: “……”! 

We paid a fine of 200 rupees, as the TC wouldn’t listen to our ‘story’, despite me explaining him that if we truly intended to travel ticketless, why the hell will we buy tickets till Ghatkopar as well? Sigh! I’ll never forgive the two!

Amazements!

The Mumbai local is an epitome of efficiency. An unbelievable number of people stand on a 5 feet 6 inch width’s space. The three-seater bench is almost always occupied by at least four people, the fourth guy saying, “Thoda baaju jao na!” and placing half his ass on the seat.

Mumbai local has taught me how to sleep while standing; there is no space for you to fall! There are advantages as well: you don’t wear any perfume before travelling and would smell of at least three different perfumes when you get down. Getting down, despite being in a crowd compartment, isn’t a problem though- just ask the guy in front, “Utarna hai?” and ask the guy behind you- a typical affirmative answer will translate to “Utaar denge tumhe!” 

The railway station is also a primary address for many singing beggars, coolies and shoe-polishers, not to forget pickpockets, typically thriving on mobiles, chains and wallets. But hey! If caught, the Mumbai crowd vents out its frustration of the delayed train on them vehemently.

It’s truly an experience travelling in the Mumbai local. Witnessing a Hindu and Muslim in an almost hugging posture, the relationship of wave-buddies who know each other just because they travel in the same train and same compartment every day, the interest unknown by-standers show on your cell-phone game while secretly praying you win, the representation from almost every strata of the society – beggars to mill workers to students to job-owners to businessmen in a single compartment is really unique

Mumbai Locals show you struggle, help you understand the value of time, make you realize how small you are in the scheme of things, ultimately teaching you the way of living life. 

I love you, Mumbai Local! Muah to you!!
Uggh! What’s that taste?
Tobacco? 
Yuck! I hate you!!

The Red Light Area

Preface: This true experience of a chance-visit to a Red Light Area and narration of the feelings and thoughts that ensued would have been justified only through a girl's eyes. Hence this blog is written impersonated as an imaginary girl - Tanya.

It was a cold winter evening, when Bhai and I took a BEST bus to Ghatkopar Station West. We departed at the last stop which was some distance away from where we wanted to go, and we decided to walk. We took a small unknown by-lane towards the direction of the station. There were some shabby and ill-maintained buildings in the dark area and I was wondering why the women standing outside were staring at us, as if we were aliens. And suddenly, Bhai drew me close and whispered in my ear, “Shit! Tanya, it’s a red light area!”

And then panic struck me. The ladies staring at us were prostitutes, and their staring now seemed justified. We were half way through and decided we continue as the station was in sight. There were some really young girls, maybe aged 15 or so, clad in flashy red skirts, white blouses and a lot of glittering make up. A couple of fat, aged women were smoking, what seemed like drugs and laughing loudly. When they saw me, they made such expressions that it seemed like they were undressing me through the eye. It made me freak out, and I clutched Bhai’s hand very hard. We started walking briskly, almost running, when a drunk man came out of a dark corner and started making advances towards us. He stopped, however, as Bhai took me to his right side, away from the man. I started perspiring. I wanted to run. The five minutes seemed like eternity…

When we reached the station, I simply broke down crying. I felt horrible, as if I was naked, as if someone had raped me in public. After a long time and a lot of consoling, I gathered my senses as we started walking towards our destination. And as we walked, I just thought how a prostitute’s life would be.

I do not believe any woman opts going into prostitution willingly. Reasons like financial distress, birth in a family somewhat related to such an atmosphere, or forced prostitution seem more legitimate. Young girls are kidnapped from places all across India, and ‘sold off’ to pimps in such places. When born in an illiterate family facing economic hardships and situated in the proximity of such places, there are chances of landing up there. But then as we walked, I came across a porn CD seller, selling a Sunny Leone CD. Would she have also faced the reasons to join pornography as I liked to believe?

Ask any prostitute, I believe she will say she dreams of getting married and settling down in a small house, have kids and leave prostitution, if given a choice. No prostitute will want her daughter to follow her in her business. They see their world as a trap and wish to break free, if there are chances. But how? And do what? Will working as a maid from house to house help her earn as much? Will she opt being a beggar or sell toys and balloons at traffic signals, earning less, but live respectfully? As we crossed a signal, a small girl pulled my hand and signaled for alms by hand gestures. And almost unconsciously, ignoring all of Bhai’s scolding, I removed a five hundred rupee note and gave her- it might save her from prostitution.

I cannot imagine how someone can surrender her body to an unknown man, whom she has never met, even for money’s sake. Risking your body, health and possibly life to dangerous STDs acquired from such encounters, being subject to insult and fearing being pregnant to a child from an unknown customer – is the fee worth it? However, for one reason, it is – it avoids the potential rapist with some cash in his wallet. All he has to do, is spend some of it, rather than rape an innocent.

And then it dawned upon me how lucky I was, merely to take birth in the family I had – something that had no reason, nothing done to deserve it. Would I be what I am, if things had been different? And how many of those girls would do wonders to the world, had they been in my place? “You’ve been very quiet, Tanu. You all right? What are you thinking?” asked Bhai while he put his jacket on me as it grew colder. I was thinking that while I gain the comfort of the jacket’s warmth, some young girl would be stripped off her clothes at this very moment at the red light area, for no great fault of hers.