Mumbai Meri Jaan

Mumbai’s suburban trains are more fun than your average Hindi potboiler, says Smruti Desai, a dyed-in-the-wool Mumbaikar.

Imagine this, you are sitting in an auto rickshaw and it has stopped at a red signal just inches away from a footpath. Out of the blue, there comes another rickshaw that not only manages to fit in between your rickshaw and the footpath but also does the deed effortlessly. All this happens while you are biting your nails for the fear of being hit by the rickshaw or worse the rickshaw turning turtle and having a domino effect on your rickshaw. But you then realize that this is a very common scenario in Mumbai, especially in places like Chakala, Marol, and Seepz. Such incidents give a new meaning to the phrase give the camel an inch and he’ll take an ell. You fight for your handful of space everywhere, starting from the lift in your building to the bus or rickshaw line to the train compartment to the bus or rickshaw line again and finally to the lift of your office building!! 

I was listening to one of the FM radio stations and the RJ air asked a rhetoric question, which city can be described by the song ‘Dhakka laga bukka’? And pat came his reply, ‘Mumbai’. He went on to explain that the situation in the suburban trains that we face everyday with people pushing and shoving you is very aptly described by the song. In the morning between the time of 8.30 to 10.30 and in the evening 6.30 to 8.30 you have people squashed in the train like sardines in the proverbial can. In all this crowd and rush, you come across conversations and incidents that allow you a peek into the world of the denizens of Mumbai. 

The following is an excerpt of a conversation between two ladies in the ladies second-class compartment in the morning:
Lady 1: Hi, where were you yesterday? Neeta and Sapna also didn’t come.
Lady 2: Arre, my bai came in late and I had to wait for her to clean the house. I took the 9.50 Virar. Sapna had to go early because she was supervising the exams in her college and Neeta’s office was closed for year-end stock taking.
Lady 1: Oh ya, I’d totally forgotten about Sapna supervising. So she won’t be coming for another two months, because after the exams, the college vacations will begin. 
These two women are not office colleagues, nor are they college or school friends who have kept in touch with each other. They are ‘train friends’. There are many such groups of train friends, which go in different trains. They are unique in that they come from all walks of life working in different kinds of professions, yet they bond with each other and form a unique kind of support system. They exchange recipes, beauty tips, listen to each other’s office cribs, family cribs, and provide a brief reprieve from the daily demands of personal and professional lives. You have all sorts of conversations happening, hawkers coming and selling their wares, bhajiwalis with their load, women screaming and shouting, fighting even! If you are exceptionally lucky—or unlucky depending on the way you look it—you may catch some spirited wrestling on the train floor! It’s an event to watch two women armed with their bags going for each other’s jugular over a seat. 

In comparison, the ladies first-class is totally different. Women dress appropriately, don’t talk, except when on their phones, seemingly ignore the other women passengers, but actually surreptitiously check each and everyone of them out. If a nattily dressed woman happens to enter the compartment, they give one quick sneering glance and ignore her. There is no bonding or fraternizing here, just ‘I’m too cool and don’t need company’ attitude. Their faces are studiously composed s masks, which would crack if they smiled. Some hide behind their books. Well, not exactly hide, but nowadays, being seen reading a book, especially a Paulo Coelho is the in thing. Which makes me wonder, how many of these women actually read the book that they are pretend to read. The only relief from this barren landscape is a group of college girls. They enter the compartment and kick up a storm talking to each other. They laugh loudly, talk loudly, speak utter nonsense, and generally have a blast so what if the surrounding landscape is hostile? They care a damn about the tut-tutting, silent glares, and chastising stares.

Coming to the gent’s second-class compartments, we have two chief breeds here. The stock exchange, diamond exchange, and cotton exchange crowd of gujaratis and marwadis. This breed is the paan/gutka chewing, loudly speaking (mostly in their mobile phones), and briefcase carrying lot. An executive from an MNC might not carry a briefcase but Pareshbhai from Kandivali will always carry one---although it’s contents have always been a mystery to me. These guys barge into the train and capture the seats by throwing a handkerchief or a paper. And then all of them get together and play cards and make loud and crude jokes till Churchgate. The other breed is the bhajan mandalis. These guys are mainly working class Maharashtrians with saffron political leanings. They get in the train compartment and whip up a frenzy singing the bhajans and abhangs. Heaven help the poor travelers in the compartment. By the time they alight, they are partially deaf and strangely start missing the loud noise and ruckus. And your average John Doe here is just content to get a seat to sit and enjoy the scenery. 

And finally, we come to the gents first-class compartment. Here we operate on some basic rules. Rule one, there will be no fourth seat given during anytime of the day. If there is no place to sit, you may stand, but no fourth seat please. Rule two, senior citizens have the right to crib and reprimand young college students who don’t know how to behave. Rule three, the aforementioned young guns will retaliate in kind and crib and curse the aforementioned senior citizens for trying to curb their freedom. Rule four, you can claim one bogey of the ladies first class compartment after 8.30 p.m. (the official time being after 9.00 p.m.). Rule five, in case of emergency we may discard all of the above rules. If you are a woman who gets in this compartment your chances of being treated as an equal rise up several notches. These guys are serious about female emancipation and growth!

In short, a journey by the suburban railway train in Mumbai can guarantee you with much more masala and spice than your average three-hour Hindi movie.