The World in Mumbai

Each city has its own specialties and spoilers. Chennai’s buses are great, but autorickshaws ask for a share in you ancestral home. Calcutta Metro is cool, but the buses seem like matchboxes on wheels. Delhi has good Metro service, nice and clean bus service, but you have our netas roaming around here and there threatening our security in the already unsecure city. But, what makes Mumbai special? Local trains will be the obvious answer. It’s like waking up a physicist in the middle of a deep sleep and asking how much ‘e’ equals to. Like a flash in the pan comes the answer “mc²”.

But, there are a few other good things about Mumbai. Autorichshaws and Taxis run on meter. Although their meter conversion sheets may be fudged, an extra ten rupees won’t do much harm to your pockets. Mumbai’s bus service is also fair enough. But there must always be a reason that can pull a city back and for Mumbai, that is – too many people. Just too many people in the city. Wherever you see, there are lots of people. On a torrential rainy day, Andheri station will be as flooded with people as it is with rainwater. One begins to wonder if the rains brought down water or people!

I travel 60 km every day and I use the services of buses, autos, trains and taxis to cover the distance. My office is in the vicinity of Antilla, Haji Ali and Mahalaxmi temple. Burkha-clad women visiting Haji Ali with their families, day-in and day-out while Hindu families enjoying their worship at Mahalaxmi temple. 27-storied bread loaf Antilla on one side, while settlements on the seaside on the other. I work near this place where India’s classification’s culmination is at its best!

I usually take a train from Kanjur Marg station. I can do bungee jumping everyday of my life rather than fight with strangers to get into the local train. The biggest problem being, you really don’t know which one of the guy you are fighting with is the HR head of which conglomerate. But, being taller with a hefty build has its own advantage and I make sure that I use it properly. Once got in, the second race begins – the race for the spot. The spot which is closer to your side of the exit and also where there is proper ventilation. I suddenly feel that I am in a train bogey filled with Sheldon Coopers, “Move it. It’s my spot!” Everyone is in war with everyone else. Push, nudge, budge, punch are all the keywords one has to be well-versed with. Inching towards Kurla, the train gets more crowded. There is an eerie silence when the train comes to Sion. As soon as Sion passes, there is a lot of movement inside the bogie. People are getting ready for the war. The war that everyone wages on everyone else. Looking into their eyes, I listen to what their angry eyes say. They say, “This is Sparta.”

Matunga passes by. People are more restless now. They slowly inch towards the exit like programmed zombies. Step-by-step. When the next station comes, everyone shouts as if it is a battlefield. This is not Sparta anymore, “This is Dadar”. Watches’ glass broken, spectacles flying around, my earphones became someone else’s and someone else’s mine, souls stolen and true to its word, “This is Dadar.” Once the train starts to move, there is calm after the storm. Life comes back to normalcy. Everyone goes back to their office only to wait until evening to fight the “Battle of Dadar” at the sanctimonious Dadar Railway Station.