Mumbai local - Lifeline or life-sucker?

There is the first class, the second class, the third class and much below that at the very bottom comes the cattle class. I have the rare privilege of travelling in the cattle class or as we Mumbaikars proudly like to call them, the local trains, every day.

Like thousands of Mumbaikars I travel to office everyday by public transport. But instead of getting into the trains like normal humans do, we get dumped, or to put it politely, herded into the metal box. Trust me when I say, travelling by train day in day out is nothing less than a main event fight night. The only difference here being instead of two fighters slogging it out for gold, here it is a free-for-all. The 'gold' in this case is a place to sit or during peak hours a place to stand without being mashed from all sides. So you can imagine when I say that the journey each way feels like a lifetime. Two lifetimes if I don't get a place!

Look carefully and you shall find two trains hidden in the crowd.

Try as I might I cannot find a single point that I like about the local trains in Mumbai except that it is the fastest way to my office, albeit not the most comfortable. I hate the crowded trains. It is like a living entity in itself, living and breathing a different life. I hate it when people forget simple manners and etiquette in their quest to find a tiny amount of space. Though I do generally tend to slip in and out of the crowd, there have been times when I have been elbowed on my face or stamped on my foot. I hate it when a man having got no time in the morning to visit the loo, let's loose an anonymous fart so toxic that if used to make a bomb can destroy half the world. What’s more, that person will be the first one to shout and blame someone else. This incident happened on a Monday morning of all days on my way to work. I had to get off two stations before my destination to breathe in fresh air. No need to state the obvious but it destroyed my morning all together. The only other smell that can rival it, is the ‘chameli ka tel’ on a guy’s head. Travel to Bandra by train and more often than not you shall find such a guy. And what's more, he will be of that exact height so that when he stands in front of you his head will be just under your nostrils. Ever heard of nose hair burning? This rare phenomenon happens only when travelling in a local train. I also hate the so called 'seats' which are basically wooden planks you park your asses on and also the fans that do spin, but do not what a breeze is. 


But above all these, what I hate the most is when a woman enters a general compartment during peak hours and in that acute scarcity of space expects to be treated like a lady. Yes lady I will give you as much space as you want, but tell me where the hell do I bring it from? And if that wasn’t enough, she goes and gets a small kid and expects more sympathy! If there was no place for you in the first place, where do I get some for your kid? Haven't you ever heard of a ladies' compartment or a ladies special train? We grumble and complain but at the end give her a space enough to seat two grown up men. This happened to me this evening on my way back from office and is what prompted me to write this post. If I hadn't written this on the train, I'm sure I would have exploded like a time bomb.

So this is how life is inside the local trains. They maybe the lifeline of the city, but they surely suck the life out of you. 

A Tale of Two Cities - Mumbai & London…

Mumbai at its full glory

Having lived in Mumbai all my life, it is quite natural that I feel attached to the city. But in my case there has always been more to this attachment. I have been in love with Mumbai since the day I lay my eyes on her. My love reached another level when I was allowed to go out on my own. Since that day I have been exploring and in the process discovering something new about Mumbai every time I go out.

I have loved everything about Mumbai, her glorious past, her architecture, the people, the glamour and most importantly the feeling of being at home. Like most Mumbaikars I complain about the state of roads, the pollution, the noise, the traffic, etc. But if you were to ask me to name a place that is as close to being a paradise as can be, I would immediately say Mumbai. I will even go on record to say that if ever there is a city where I would wish to settle down and eventually die, it is Mumbai.

When I left home last year, apart from feeling sad about leaving my family and friends, I was sad because I was also leaving Mumbai. Unlike those times when it used to be for short vacations, this time I knew I would be leaving her for good. All the memories came flooding back to me in the short time between the plane taxing to the runway and the take-off. The times on local-trains and the black and yellow taxis, eating at road-side stalls, sitting and staring out at the sea on Marine Drive, wading through knee-deep water during one particular monsoon and so much more. The montage of pictures, videos and sounds was simply mind-numbing.

Life at Sheffield has been good and slowly but steadily I have settled in quite well. I like Sheffield for its beauty, peace and I like how life moves about at its own pace here. But this is not a place which I would call home. I always get a feeling that I am living at a holiday resort. There has always been something amiss which I couldn’t put a finger on until 4 days ago.

A class trip presented me with the opportunity to finally visit London. From everything that I had heard, seen and read about London, I had always thought of it to be the Mumbai of UK. What I had not realised was just how right I was in my imagination. As I stepped onto the streets of London, I immediately felt as if I was home. Somehow having left Sheffield that morning I had landed in Mumbai. I was back among the crowds, the hustle-bustle of the city and I loved every tiny bit of it.

The city was buzzing with life. The traffic was endless. There was a purpose in the steps of each person either going to work or going back home after a hard day’s work at office. The buildings were a beautiful blend of ancient gothic and modern architecture. There was a sense of power in the air and authority to the place as if the entire country depended upon this place and it does. The rides on the Underground tube were reminiscent to the countless hours I had spent on the Mumbai local trains. I felt so much at home that for the first hour or so I was busy soaking it all in. Every step that I took reminded me of Mumbai.

The three days that I spent in London flew by at lightning speed. But it has left a lasting impression on me. I have finally found a home away from home. I do not know what the future holds for me and I cannot predict if I will get to live and work at London. All I know is until the day I return to Mumbai, if there is a place where I would love to live and call it my home, it is London.