True Story
“Jitu, get up. It’s 6.30 already. You will be late for college.”
Me, with a muffled voice – “5 mins…”
THIS extra sleep is like the 1st sip of chilled beer in summer.
And after 10 mins…
“Jitu, uth 15 mins ho gaya.”
“5 mins more…”
After 10 minutes, dad takes over. The volume of the Suprabhatham by the legendary MS Subbulakshmi goes high, my chaddar (blanket!) is taken off, fan is switched off. I feel a tapli on the head.
“C’mon get up!”
I look at the watch “Holy shit, I will miss my 8:03 local.” (Local = Local Train)
Now, everything is in fast forward mode. I am all set and about to leave the house.
“Jitu, idli chutney is ready. Have it and then go.”
It’s too early for the breakfast. I really don’t have time to eat.
So, I gobble up 12 idlis.
“Mmmm, so delicious”. You just can’t eat few Amma made idlis and chutney.
One must have priorities clear in life. Mine is “khaana.”
“Aaram se kha. Chew it. Cows can un-swallow, and re-chew, humans can’t.”
“Eat some more.”
“No Amma, I am getting late..” I lament and I gobble up 2 more.
‘Maa ka pyaar’ is totally manifested through food.
I grab the packed dabba. “Bye, amma.”
Mankhurd station is 20 mins walk from my home. I start walking, then walking fast, then running and finally I am sprinting towards the station. It is 8:02. As I enter the station, I run faster through the gaps, twisting my body to squeeze through the crowd, ducking under the macchi basket carried on the head by a fisherwoman. I end up hitting (not intentional) a few people with my elbow and bag. Somehow, I make it to my platform. I run towards my compartment.
“Phoooon” the loud local train horn blows. And the train starts.
There is a technique to get into the running train. A science, if I may…
You must run at the precise speed. Too fast – you will find yourself in the ladies’ compartment. Too slow – you will be among stuff in the luggage compartment plus there is no door rod. Once at the right speed, you must secure the train door rod with a firm grip with one hand and then vaaauuuulllt into the train. People standing at the door will create space for you and even support you to get in. That way, Mumbai Rocks!
Once in, I am looking for place to stand where I can breathe with a normal head position. Most of the time you look at the heavens, not praying, but to avoid breathing right into your neighbour’s armpit!
There is absolutely no place to stand – forget about place to sit.
Seats are maximized. 4 people sit in a 3-seater. We Mumbaikars stick together – literally. If there are only 3 people sitting, you just tap on the shoulder of the aisle guy, make a silent hand and face gesture conveying “thoda khasak na”. Now, you are the aisle guy.
We always choose 4th coach from the engine because it’s a video coach. One can keep watching and dream – even in the crowded train. Each one in the compartment has their head turned in THAT direction. How blissful!
No, there is no video. The adjacent compartment is ladies’ compartment separated by iron net or a small gap in the frame.
All the women ogle at men through it. How creepy, right!?! Magic of Y-Chromosome! 😊
Fitness experts say the trick to remain fit is to aim for a mix of activities. The workouts should include walking, running, jumping, punching, hanging, squatting, and balancing.
Mumbaikars don’t have to go the gym to get the above workout done, they just need to travel by local train.
In addition, we also get extreme body compression and stretching done. Please note, we do it in formals, casuals, dhoti, saree, with long hair… along with the weights hanging by our shoulders.
At the next few stations, thousands of people get into the train. Local train is like my stomach. Even if it’s totally packed, it always makes room for more food.
Next station is Kurla, and I must alight.
It takes weeks of practice to have the necessary skills to alight at Kurla. (I am embarrassed to admit I have not been able to alight at Kurla when I was a rookie Mumbai local traveller)
So, I adjust and align myself in the direction of exit door.
The total distance is less than 8.8 feet. Just like in Rugby and American Football, you can’t just march. One needs firmness of mind and the will of a gladiator to face the extreme hazard ahead. It’s like childbirth but here you are the one pushing and you are the one coming out!
I thrust and apply tremendous strength to wriggle through 3 people. I make monumental progress. I cover 2.5 feet. I tap on the shoulder of the person in front – “Kurla?” Nahi. He makes a tiny space for me to press through. Then I tap the next shoulder in front. Kurla? Nahi. I wriggle through.
I tap again. Kurla? Nahi. Move. Tap again. “Haan, mai bhi kurla”. I am pleased to hear that. I just stand there.
As train enters and slows down at the Kurla station, it’s a tussle between people alighting the train versus people barging into the train. I adjust to be in the right lane.
Please note: If you are in the right lane, you will be pushed and thrown out of the train onto the platform. It’s like water gushing out at the opening of a Watergate in a dam. In case you are in the other lane, you must generate enough power to push through the people entering the train. If you are not able to overpower them, you will be pushed back into the train. First time it happened to me, i thought crowd loved me and didn’t want me to leave.
Off the train, now to the next hurdle.
Climbing the overhead bridge is again a clash. Clash between commuters going up versus commuters coming down. One more opportunity to get the workout done – this time at an inclination.
Many use the overhead bridge as a watchtower to determine which train to take – fast or slow. Both take the same time to reach Dadar – well almost. Sometimes fast train reaches faster.
Gayathri joins us as we take the overhead bridge.
“Gayathri, you are so lucky. You don’t have to deal with general compartment crowd. It must be so peaceful in ladies’ compartment”. I declare.
“Peaceful!!?? My foot. You have no idea. Be glad you are a man. The Aunties in the ladies compartment are the most dangerous creatures. Thank your stars you have not seen them fight. A small dhakka by mistake can cause anything from ripping off your hair to a deadly stare that can burn the whole train! If two ladies claim the seat at the same time, its near World War 3!”
“Gayathri, you just shattered my image of ‘Serene compartment’. I mumble in utter shock.
Mumbai local trains’ doors are always open. This way over 1000 passenger’s hangout at the door.
Yes – I mean passengers hang in there by hanging out by the door!
The open door also ensures people in the train don’t die of suffocation.
You live on the edge at the door – literally. You stand on your toes on footboard and hold the metal upper water gutter by two fingers. Your body is fully stretched in the shape of a bow. You keep pushing your body inside the train otherwise you will be hit by the electric pole.
Peak hour rush sometime forces humans to take on Monkey avatar. For a monkey its easy-peasy to climb up to top of the train. These monkeys enjoy the view and breeze like they would on a building terrace. ‘
Once, I was also on the local train roof dancing to Chaiyya Chaiyya. I forgot the bow down and got hit by the crossover bridge.
After that I stopped imagining. Phew!
Mumbaikars are very supportive. If they see you struggling to hold on, one of them will grab you by the collar and not let you fall. But the same man will politely yell at you too “C&*^%, Bhagwaan akkal baant raha tha tab kahan tha? next train leneka na”
I disembark at Dadar. Dadar station is the most crowded and busiest railway station.
It’s a junction to Western line and Central line. Outstation trains stop and start from here. Every inch of Dadar station – platforms, overbridge, long ticket line, tea-stall, bookstall, restrooms is packed with people.
I am walking to change platforms. The hawkers are doing good business; People are bargaining loudly. Some people are smiling ear to ear after returning from their hometown. Coolies carrying 5-6 huge bags on their head and shoulders.
There are all kinds of sounds, some loud, some faint… – “Borivali jaani wali slow local platform number ek pe aaegei“, “paanch ka do bundle, fresh maal hai”, “chai, garam chai”, “dil ke arma aasuon mein beh gaye”, “Phoooooooonnnn”…
I am a bit hungry, so I stop to grab a snack. In my opinion, the Vada paav at Dadar station and Ragda paav at Kurla station tastes the best in the world. They put in a lot of blood, sweat and tears to reach that level of success. Sweat for sure. We see it all the time.
The guy is washing the plates with the stagnant soapy water in the bucket. The wada is being cooked in the same oil since yesterday. How can anyone eat after seeing that!?!
But what to do? It nourishes my soul. I relish eating at the station.
I make it to platform number 3. Next train is a Virar fast. Everyone dreads the “Virar Fast”.
One must be very careful with pickpockets at the station or in local trains. I have extraordinary reflexes. When someone touches my rear pocket, with my lightning speed reaction I always end up catching the wrong hand. And as a reward, I get a tight slap. This happened a few times and I figured the best strategy against these pick pocketers is to keep my pockets empty.
If a pickpocket is caught, the victim beats him up.
Wait.
A non-victim passerby who has absolutely no idea what happened will whack the pick pocketer too. We call it “Behti Ganga mein haath dhona.”
It’s a proven way to quickly unwind after a stressful local train journey. New age Coaches call it active recovery.
I somehow manage to get into the Virar fast.
In the train, a man has a radio glued to his ears.
“Score kya hua?” We know he is listening to cricket.
“112 for 3.”
“Kaun gaya?”
“Sachin is batting.”
“Phew, bach gaya”. In those days, who got out did not matter as long as Sachin is batting.
“Arey Bhai, you come and sit here”. One man offers him a place to sit. Unbelievable. A seat offered in Virar Local.
“No. No. I will stand here. Mai baitega to Sachin out hoega” he says rejecting the offer to sit.
“OK, fir tu udhar hi khada re.” 27 people say in Chorus
I am enjoying the rhythmic sound of train on track.. chu chuk chu chuk… chu chuk chu chuk… and suddenly I hear a loud, noisy angry voice “B!@#%$, dhakka mat de”. A free-for-all angry noisy brawl erupts – out of nowhere. Two decent looking office goers are fighting.Truth be told – it’s total entertainment to see others fight, but I definitely don’t want to be in one. From these brawls you learn new creative gaalis. Some idiots will try to stop the fight and end our “timepass”.
While the fight is on, there is group of passengers who are not perturbed at all. They continue to sing bhajans. One of them is playing manjira and the other using his suitcase as tabla. how refreshing!
At Bandra, a couple enters the general compartment.
“idhar pahila hi jagah nahi hai. Why can’t she go in the lady’s compartment?” being irriated, I mumble irritatingly.
On top of it, this boyfriend protects his girl from potential creeps (not me). He spreads hands and legs in around her – taking up a space of 4 people in that congested train. It is also possible that my irritation is that I am jealous. ‘Even he has a girlfriend’
We cross Santacruz and one fella shouts “Arey bhai fan on karo na”.
“Switch on hai. Fan kharaab hai” responds a passenger.
A man next to me takes out a comb from his back pocket. Inserts the comb into the dusty grill and gives it push. And it starts working. It works – all the time.
Some clap, some thank him. He has a big smile.
We reach Andheri, get pushed off (I mean, get off) the train and walk to college.
“Arey yaar, aaj ek naya gaali sikha!” I say.
“Hahaha, mai bhi” says Subbu.
And life continues.
The thought of ‘one day I will drive my own car and never travel by local train’ crossed my mind many times. Infact, it became a life goal.
I do own a car now.
And yet, when I must reach on time or want to be introspective, I depend on the local train. Without a doubt, it is the lifeline of Mumbai.
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