My second tryst was during my Summer Internship in 2006. I was staying with some friends in Ghatkopar, and we all were working in Fort. So everyday we went on the Central Lines from Ghatkopar to V.T. (Ok yaar, C.S.T.!!!)
In the interval of 6 years, I had experienced 3 years of public buses, Mini Buses and the Metro in Calcutta, and 3 years of DTC in Delhi. So, I was quite cocky about this new experience – what can Mumbai locals do to a DTC-survived Dilliwallah? Well, it was an experience, but still not as bad as the horror stories I had heard.
Then one day it started raining… people still had 26th July 2005 (the day Mumbai received a record 942 mm of rain) fresh in their minds and started panicking.
This was the first few days of June and the Monsoons were still a couple of days away. At worst, it would be a heavier than usual pre-monsoon shower. But everyone panicked and started leaving early. To complicate issues, some official came on TV and asked people not to panic and leave for their homes asap! That was sure to settle our nerves!
On the insistence of a fellow intern who was from Mumbai, we left early. There were three of us – two going to Ghatkopar (S and me), and one to Dombivali (B). It looked like someone had left a great big shower on, and the water kept pouring. We tried getting a Taxi from near the Fountain to VT, but to no avail. Anyway, by this time we were soaked, so it didn’t really matter. B, the Mumbaikar was prepared and had his umbrella, but even that didn’t help much. S and I decided to get to a cigarette, and we tried smoking on the way. It felt good to smoke while getting drenched, but such pleasures are short-lived. The cigarette also gave in to the unrelenting rain, and though it was still lit, it was impossible to smoke because it was so soaked.
We stopped on the way at a roadside stall which gave temporary shelter under its tarpaulin. Ate some bhajia, and then reached the station. What we saw outside startled us – a traffic jam that made Calcutta jams look like smooth flowing jellies. Cars were not moving – some because they couldn’t (stuck behind another car) and some because they just wouldn’t (their engines giving up halfway just like my cigarette)!
We entered VT to find a huge mass of people just waiting. An announcement informed us that the line after Kurla is temporarily down due to a lightning strike. And we also waited! After some time, S said we should take a taxi to Ghatkopar. I reasoned that it will take ages and who knows where the car would break down, leaving us stranded in the middle of nowhere. We were definitely better off here. At least we could go back to office and stay there. We decided to venture outside again and go to some place where we could sit for some time. B had a long way to go, and he wanted to wait and take the first train going to Dombivili. S and I wished him luck, and walked back towards office. We stopped at Suvidha where we were joined by A (it was his place at Ghatkopar we were staying). After having our Masala Dosas, we went back to VT.
By this time, some of the services had resumed, and we got onto a jam-packed train (“Sardines in a tin-can” would be an understatement!). A weird coincidence was that B also got into the same compartment.
The train was finally on its way, stopping at every station, and though we thought there was no space, some people managed to get on without anyone getting off the train.
Near Dadar, one person wanted to get down, and was trying desperately to find his way through. He got stuck a few feet from the exit. On asking the guy standing at the exit to give way, the guy refused. He said, “You’ll have to punch me if you want me to give way”. On further coaxing, he explained, “if I have to give way, I’ll have to temporarily get down, and then with so many people wanting to get on, I may not be able to get on again”. A seemingly irrational statement backed by some very good reasoning.
S, A and I were having a tough time, but B was having a ball. Whenever the train stopped, and someone outside asked if there is space, he would shout, “Lots of space, buddy. 4-5 people can easily fit. Come on in”.
After Dadar passed, we tried to make our way to other side of the coach. We were standing near the exit on the right-hand side, but our platform would come on the left. A was near the middle, so he was able to make some progress, but S and I got stuck. At Kurla, we decided to get off one station before Ghatkopar (Vidyavihar), where the platform comes on the right. We shouted out to A that we’ll meet him back home, and got off quite easily. There were not many people trying to get in, so we didn’t have to punch the unreasonable guy at the exit.
Standing at the station, I looked back at the train. People everywhere like ants crawling over a dead insect – sitting on the top, between the gaps of two coaches, and even hanging on to the window grills outside!
I know I can never do that, and that should have put me off from traveling on Mumbai locals, but here I am back in Mumbai again and back to some more of such exciting and harrowing experiences!
In the interval of 6 years, I had experienced 3 years of public buses, Mini Buses and the Metro in Calcutta, and 3 years of DTC in Delhi. So, I was quite cocky about this new experience – what can Mumbai locals do to a DTC-survived Dilliwallah? Well, it was an experience, but still not as bad as the horror stories I had heard.
Then one day it started raining… people still had 26th July 2005 (the day Mumbai received a record 942 mm of rain) fresh in their minds and started panicking.
This was the first few days of June and the Monsoons were still a couple of days away. At worst, it would be a heavier than usual pre-monsoon shower. But everyone panicked and started leaving early. To complicate issues, some official came on TV and asked people not to panic and leave for their homes asap! That was sure to settle our nerves!On the insistence of a fellow intern who was from Mumbai, we left early. There were three of us – two going to Ghatkopar (S and me), and one to Dombivali (B). It looked like someone had left a great big shower on, and the water kept pouring. We tried getting a Taxi from near the Fountain to VT, but to no avail. Anyway, by this time we were soaked, so it didn’t really matter. B, the Mumbaikar was prepared and had his umbrella, but even that didn’t help much. S and I decided to get to a cigarette, and we tried smoking on the way. It felt good to smoke while getting drenched, but such pleasures are short-lived. The cigarette also gave in to the unrelenting rain, and though it was still lit, it was impossible to smoke because it was so soaked.
We stopped on the way at a roadside stall which gave temporary shelter under its tarpaulin. Ate some bhajia, and then reached the station. What we saw outside startled us – a traffic jam that made Calcutta jams look like smooth flowing jellies. Cars were not moving – some because they couldn’t (stuck behind another car) and some because they just wouldn’t (their engines giving up halfway just like my cigarette)!
We entered VT to find a huge mass of people just waiting. An announcement informed us that the line after Kurla is temporarily down due to a lightning strike. And we also waited! After some time, S said we should take a taxi to Ghatkopar. I reasoned that it will take ages and who knows where the car would break down, leaving us stranded in the middle of nowhere. We were definitely better off here. At least we could go back to office and stay there. We decided to venture outside again and go to some place where we could sit for some time. B had a long way to go, and he wanted to wait and take the first train going to Dombivili. S and I wished him luck, and walked back towards office. We stopped at Suvidha where we were joined by A (it was his place at Ghatkopar we were staying). After having our Masala Dosas, we went back to VT.
By this time, some of the services had resumed, and we got onto a jam-packed train (“Sardines in a tin-can” would be an understatement!). A weird coincidence was that B also got into the same compartment.
The train was finally on its way, stopping at every station, and though we thought there was no space, some people managed to get on without anyone getting off the train.
Near Dadar, one person wanted to get down, and was trying desperately to find his way through. He got stuck a few feet from the exit. On asking the guy standing at the exit to give way, the guy refused. He said, “You’ll have to punch me if you want me to give way”. On further coaxing, he explained, “if I have to give way, I’ll have to temporarily get down, and then with so many people wanting to get on, I may not be able to get on again”. A seemingly irrational statement backed by some very good reasoning.
S, A and I were having a tough time, but B was having a ball. Whenever the train stopped, and someone outside asked if there is space, he would shout, “Lots of space, buddy. 4-5 people can easily fit. Come on in”.
After Dadar passed, we tried to make our way to other side of the coach. We were standing near the exit on the right-hand side, but our platform would come on the left. A was near the middle, so he was able to make some progress, but S and I got stuck. At Kurla, we decided to get off one station before Ghatkopar (Vidyavihar), where the platform comes on the right. We shouted out to A that we’ll meet him back home, and got off quite easily. There were not many people trying to get in, so we didn’t have to punch the unreasonable guy at the exit.
Standing at the station, I looked back at the train. People everywhere like ants crawling over a dead insect – sitting on the top, between the gaps of two coaches, and even hanging on to the window grills outside!
I know I can never do that, and that should have put me off from traveling on Mumbai locals, but here I am back in Mumbai again and back to some more of such exciting and harrowing experiences!
1 comment:
absolutely loved your post:) took me back to the times I worked in Mumbai - Navi Mumbai to be exact. I know that will offend many a mumbaikar - but what the hell. The only time i ventured on the locals was on weekends and I would sit from 10 to 12 pm on the platform reading or marvelling at the sea of humanity at Kurla with a million, slickly oiled heads bobbing up and down while i waited for a reasonably packed "tin can" to roll into the platform.
Post a Comment