Generally standing

The concept of space and time is best understood by those who commute on Mumbai’s local trains. Every minute matters and so does every inch. Getting a window seat—or for that matter, an emptier compartment—is nothing less than a luxury. And this is the case with all the three lines of railway networks in our city. One more thing that’s common to Harbour, Central and Western is the way the so-called luggage compartment is utilised by daily passengers. During the morning rush hour, people avoid them because of hasty vendors and the dabbawallahs who wouldn’t let their luggage-less counterparts sneak in. At other times of the day, luggage compartment is a delight to be in—illegally speaking though—given the space it has. No wonder it’s treated as a general compartment during the rest of the day! After all, there no ‘barriers’ per se in these chotu compartments.

Reading between bylines

There are many things i’ve observed—if not learnt—in my short tenure as a film journalist. One of them is the fact that nobody gives a shit about byline. Until and unless you are someone like Aakar Patel or Nandini Ramnath with your smiling picture going with the slug. Legendary cartoonists like RK Laxman don’t need a byline yet they insisted on signing their work. Things are a bit discouraging for lesser mortals though. The way readers automatically skip the name of the person who has written an article is an interesting phenomenon. They read the headline, the strap and jump directly to the main body completely overlooking something in fine print practically dying for attention! Anyway, i’ve grown enough in my field to care less about my byline anymore but it’s a completely different story—no pun intended—when you come across a commuter reading your piece. What a narcissistic feeling that is! And it does make a dramatic scene too. He busy reading what you wrote yesterday neither acknowledging your byline nor you standing right in front of him. So you end up secretly taking a picture of him in action. Fair enough.

Crash and spread

When it comes to local trains in our city, almost every single operational hour is a rush hour. You never know when the public is going to rise in numbers at a given platform. As a result, the lines are drawn for who goes where. Ladies compartments for ladies. General compartments for anyone who cares to fight their way in and then out. First-class compartments for those who think they are better off when they aren’t. Handicap compartments for those who shouldn’t fight at all. Oh, and let’s not forget the luggage compartment. This dingy compartment for the ones with heavy baggage and baskets. And during the early morning rides, the vendors/hawkers/peddlers who  cram into this exclusive bogey are very particular about not losing anything in transit. They make sure not a single fruit or a bunch of spinach is damaged or misplaced.  However, when it so happens that they fail to balance the heavy load on their head and as a consequence, lose a commodity or two, they don’t even care to pick up their waste so as to dispose of it in a nearby garbage bin. It’s edible, so they won’t throw it away. And the result is that the station ends up looking like a sticky marketplace during such moments of undesired loss.

Hide and seek

Raids on illegal hawkers and vendors by Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) is nothing new. Every time it happens, there’s an expected amount of chaos. The idea is to stop the roadside ‘perpetrators’ from operating unlawfully. What is interesting is the persistence on both ends. The vendors will not give up as they continue to go back to the streets to sell their commodities while the civic authority will keep surprising them every now and then. Something amusing took place over the weekend at Colaba. BMC officials got a complaint that some vendors were storing their goods on top of a roadside tree at night. Despite warnings that the practice could cause an accident, injuring pedestrians walking underneath the tree, the concerned vendors did not pay heed. As a consequence, the feared van parked itself on the street and the elevated gunny bags were lowered—with much protests from their owners—so as to be confiscated. Despite the shouting by the women and resistance by men, it was just another day in the city. The odds move in a mysterious way in Mumbai.

Rebels with the paws

How can you not envy those street dogs who lie on the rooftops under which lesser mortals like you and me fight for nonexistent space in trains? How can you not feel a bit better about yourself seeing them so damn lost in their lalaland while the sun warm their fur? How can you not realize that the only difference between them and us is they are cultured and yet wholeheartedly nudist? How can you not stop and stare at your good luck of finding the finest species—at their heartbreakingly cute vulnerable state—that ever happened to humans? How?

I don't know about my fellow commuters but i do. 

PS: At the same time, i'm glad to notice that like us, they too have realized that the only way to go in this dogforsaken city is vertical, not horizontal.

Men will be men

At any given point of time, more men are travelling in a Mumbai local train than women. Which might also explain why there are fewer compartments reserved for the fairer sex. Of course, the rest of the compartments are called general, not gentlemen's compartment but you get the drift. However, women—especially those who travel on a daily basis—prefer to stick with their kind when it comes to commuting. Which is also why i was surprised to come across an elderly woman standing amid men on a platform at Dadar station. According to her, men are more courteous to her than those belonging to her gender. “In ladies compartment, even young girls—forget middle-aged women—won't be kind enough to vacate their seats for an oldie—forget pregnant women—like me. In general compartment, things are far better as i'm often helped while boarding as well as alighting.” As discouragingly habitual or encouragingly nice as these contrasting gestures may sound, it's high time senior citizens got a reserved compartment!

Bus kya?

Mumbai’s public transport landscape is complex. Every mode of transport has its unique points. Take for instance—BEST buses. We think they are similar to local trains in some ways, like for instance, both buses and trains do not wait for anyone and are overcrowded at peak hours. There is one major difference however, and that is the presence of a conductor who wades through the bus—no matter how packed it is. The overhead rope-enabled bell serves as his mode of communication with the driver behind the wheel. Still, sometimes, there is huge miscommunication between the two and that can lead to humourous incidents. It is good to laugh amidst all that crowd! Moreover, a passenger needs to carry a sense of humour in Mumbai. It weighs nothing and can brighten up the road, like nothing else can. Like, one recently witnessed a conductor on the Byculla-Worli route running after a bus. Impossible as that may sound, this gentleman kept tapping the bus while sprinting but the driver mistook him for a hasty passenger and kept moving with the slow traffic. Ultimately, the conductor caught up with his bus and the passengers had a hearty laugh at what happened. One young man commented that a conductor in this city finally experienced how it feels to chase a bus! Meanwhile, our conductor took a minute or two to catch his breath before starting “Ticket, ticket…”

Phoney business

If i ask you who's your best friend, there's a greater probability of you overlooking the one thing that's been very close to you like never before: your cellphone. After all, there's a reason why the closest we get to hearing a heart break is our smartphone slipping from our hand only to crash on the floor. Worse could be misplacing the phone entirely like we do sometimes. However, the worst possible case scenario would be getting mugged of your phone while commuting in a train. Imagine the irony of losing it to a robbery attempted in a crowded venue. But it's a harsh reality of our city. There's no dearth of news ringing in time and time again of the aam janta paying the price for being absorbed in their gadget. Like some unsuspecting commuters standing on the footboard of a halted train fidgeting with their phones only to be snatched of his all-important device by a thief who is hanging onto the footboard of a parallel train. Sometimes, pickpockets aim for your phone instead of your wallet. If that isn't scary enough, we recently came across an incident on a platform in Andheri. A lean guy entered a train, tried to tussle a commuter's phone out of his grab—unsuccessfully though—before jumping out of the train. All within few seconds. If anything, these discouraging events help us understand how behavioral patterns contribute to the rise of a particular crime too.

Overcrowded comedy

Two unwritten rules apply to Mumbai’s local trains. 1. There’s always room for one more passenger no matter how jam-packed a given compartment is. 2. Always expect a co-commuter to crack a good one. Both these rules were observed recently on the Central Line. As the train slowly picked up speed at Kurla, a gentleman with a bagpack somehow managed to catch the train. Not comfortable with the idea of hanging on the footboard, he pushed his way in—to fellow passengers’ utter discomfort. On top of that, he made a rather nasty remark while standing on someone’s toes. “Zoo jaise ho gaya hai train aaj kal,” said our hero as he stood on his toes. He wasn’t expecting any rebuttal when somebody not that far away from him reparteed, “Bas ek gadhe ki kami thi.” Needless to mention, the resulting laugh must have made the commuters forget—for a little while—the inhumane manner in which they travel daily.

Delayed and how

In the recent past, we've highlighted several times how Harbour Line needs to buckle up a bit given the constant train delays. Earlier, the local trains weren't running on time during the rush hour—which generally isn't the case with Western or Central Line—but now the 'privilege' has been extended much beyond. In other words, the rush hour doesn't end only! The number of passengers keep rising to dangerous levels even after the clock strikes nine. The above picture is from the past week at Kurla when the time was well above 11 in the night. The platform number is seven and  during this time, no other platform witness such crowd. Is it because the trains are running properly on Central Line or is it because the commuters are relatively lower in number? In anyway, isn't it high something got done for Harbour Line? It's an utter case of apathy from the railway authority who have been treating the CST-Panvel Line as a stepchild. If not, what else can explain this daily harassment?

Overheard

Giving up your seat in a public transport for someone who needs it more doesn't make you a great human being. It merely makes you human. Moreover, the reason why we keep forgetting this clear distinction is people seldom relieve their butt for others. What's more interesting is when a person is offered seat and the recipient doesn't even acknowledge the gesture. For instance, i came across an episode recently. On receiving a seat emptied by a young man, an elderly gentleman thanked his son—who wasn’t even travelling with him—instead of the guy who relinquished his position for him. The old man while making his comfortable said, "You did this for me because i’m sure my son too does this for oldies like me.” Subtle and touching at the same time but the nothing could match the priceless expression on the young Samaritan’s face. Anyway, he now has a story to share now. Like i do.

Let’s space it

Be it any railway line in the city—Harbour, Central or Western—there is always going to be an issue for space. Both inside as well as outside a local train. However, things are worse inside. Most of the time what happens is commuters who manage to get in first crowd up the aisle even if they have several stations to go before they alight. It’s more about attitude than the fear of missing their respective stations. What these passengers do is they choke up the narrow passages giving an impression that the train is overcrowded when in reality there is ample space to stand in the middle of the compartment. The only problem is it’s very difficult to get through as this about-to-get-down-but-aren't-going-to-down-from-train crowd only grows thicker with every passing station. In an ideal world, these people would realise that they are only creating troubles for those who not only want in but also may have a longer distance to go. Turns out we don’t live in an ideal world and some luxurious space is always going to stay vacant in the middle until and unless brave souls fight their way in.

Blast from the past

It’s been 30 years since Bhopal gas tragedy. And if there is one lesson that we can draw from what happened then—followed by the long ongoing struggle for justice by the unsuspecting victims—then it has to be caution. After all, it’s only after a disaster takes place that we realise the extent of damage. Industrialisation undoubtedly might have increased the pace of life but it has its share of horrible sides that we are exposed to almost on a daily basis.

 Going back to what happened three decades ago, there is indeed little room for respite. Till date, the number of people who died due to the gas leak varies depending on whom we’re referring to. The confusion grows when the number of those who suffered directly or indirectly is taken into account. Against such a sorry scenario, it’s interesting to highlight that the incident took place in a state capital city, not in a fringe locale.

Which brings us back to our city.

It goes without saying that Mumbai is crammed like never before. It’s nothing less than a miracle that despite the population explosion and the ensuing lack of space, we still manage to behave like a metropolitan. In light of the aforementioned tragedy, we wonder whether our city is capable of coping with something similar in case it happens. Although the recent past suggests that Mumbai’s idea of an industrial disaster is restricted to fire outburst but that might not be true across the spectrum. There’s no denial that the air we breathe within the perimeters of this city is substantially polluted. Since agriculture is at its minimum here, we don’t—unfortunately enough—bother about soil pollution either. That leaves us water to worry about. During the monsoon, the rising gutter levels give us an idea about the kind of preparation the civic authorities haven’t done.

 Taking all the unwelcoming factors mentioned above, it's worth wondering whether our dear city would be able to cope with an industrial disaster if and when it happens. Remember how Fukushima thought it was prepared for natural series of events when it clearly wasn’t?

Signs of ageing

During the rush hours, whichever local train halting at whichever platform on Dadar station brings with it the disembarkation of a sea of humanity—to put it very mildly. A majority of this crowd make way towards the overheard bridge so as to either get out of the station or to move to another platform to catch the connecting train. We overlook the ones crossing the tracks because they don't consider their lives worthy enough. Coming back to the ascending crowd on the FOB stairs, there's hardly enough space so shrinking one's contour while moving up is a standard practice. During the ascent where we resemble penguins, accidentally hitting the heel of the person in front of you or getting hit by the one behind you is a standard practice too. What isn't is an old man with a heavy box on his head climbing the stairs while you're walking up slowly ahead of him. He'll go mad at you by mumbling, "Buddhe maafik chalta hai." The irony being lost only on time and nothing else.

A matter of urgency

Week in and week out, we either witness ourselves or hear from others about a commuter losing his balance while either getting into a local train or while hanging on to the footboard or even while alighting at a station. People do fall because of several reasons and one can only hope the damage is minimum—if not fatal. According to the Kakodkar Committee, around 15000 people got killed last year due to trespassing on rail tracks in the country, out of which 6000 occurred in Mumbai alone. Be it any report, this city boasts of maximum railway causality by design. A reality resonant enough to make the authorities realise that urgency matters when a commuter has slipped or tripped. But more often than not, help arrives just like monsoon in India. Delayed and depleted. However, there was some improvisation last week as i saw people gather to save a life. People gather anyway. But it was more heartening to see how the railway workers responded on Platform no. 5 to a man who was unfortunate enough to fall from a running train. The stretcher was immediately called upon and the wounded man was provided relief. We can only hope this instance isn't a rarity.

Push and shove

If you happen to be a railway commuter, you'd be knowing how precious space is inside a train compartment. Which also explains why the term dhakka—meaning push or shove depending on where you're standing—is as common as crowd. To be fair to the daily passengers who have accepted the harsh reality of congestion, nobody likes to have a quarrel and that too inside a jampacked train. But things happen and we often get entertained by two or more characters who wouldn't mind slinging expletives before taking up a more violent stand—no pun intended. However, many a times, these silly confrontations evoke either laughter or silent appreciation from people gathered around. For instance, a young fellow was apprehending a senior citizen for dhakka when the latter firmly asked, "Meri umar hai dhakka deneki?" This was before he added, "Dhakka lagne se aadmi aage hi badhta hai, peeche nahi."

Sticks and glasses

Ever wondered how those without eyesight survive in our city? They may not be able to see the sun but they do sweat or feel the heat. The only difference being they don't seem to crib. Or maybe they lack the avenues to do so. Although their white-and-red sticks sets them apart from the crowd, they walk normal. They don't wobble like they suggest in our movies. In fact, they are more civil on the streets than the rest of us. Be it on the footpath—being law-abiding citizens, they'll always stick to the side of the road, for safety reasons of course—or be it at railway platforms, they are measured and take each step carefully. What's more intriguing is how the visually-challenged ones learnt to continue with the fast-paced flow of Mumbai without compromising on their aspirations. They are not beggars but strugglers and thrivers like the majority of Mumbaikars. We may be ignorant about Braille but when you see a blind man dialing a number on his cellphone and talking to someone, you can't help but smile. After all, the advent of technology in this city has indeed made an attempt at forcing us to be more equal than what the previous status quo guaranteed.

Storm before the calm

Every evening, when the sun is about to set, platform no. 7 at Kurla station comes into its own. Without fail, the crowd grows thicker and the flow of trains grows thinner. What’s unmistakable though is that no other platform—during the aforementioned timeframe—comes remotely close to gathering people to such extent. None of those waiting for the delayed mode of transportation want to stand a minute longer than what the overhead indicator insists. But they are forced to. And this carnival carries on well into the night. It goes without saying that the lack of adequate trains on Harbour Line (HL) is steadily contributing to this peculiar mess. Speaking of which, only one heavy shower it took last week to remind HL of its place of significance in the pecking order. We wonder what really is going on in the planning room. With an annual growth of 9.22%, HL is probably India’s fastest growing suburban segment. But how exactly are the commuters benefiting from this growth? Fast trains are obviously out of question given the narrow bridge that connects Mumbai to Navi Mumbai. So when is the frequency of slow trains going to increase? Especially during rush hour when the people quite literally forget that they are human beings in order to get into the already jam-packed train compartments. A train line that brings two cities closer certainly merits an overhaul, if not in execution then at least in vision.

Trick or bleat

Going by the book, pet animals or birds aren’t welcome inside a local train. But then, abiding laws in our city often come in the way of leading our usual daily life. No wonder we’ve seen commuters carrying a cage filled
with exotic birds, leash-tied dogs, arm-held Persian cat in a not-so-empty train compartments. What’s worth pointing out is the way people react to non-human beings inside a locomotive. Seldom do you see someone objecting to a pet be it a general compartment or a luggage one. That aggressive behaviour is reserved for fellow toe-stomping humans only! On the other hand, commuters are evidently amused and smiling at the sight of a pet. Some even resort to clicking photographs—no matter how constraining the space is—to post it on Internet later. I too captured a reluctant commuter at Kurla station. Unlike others on the platform, this four-legged fella was flashing his rear to the railway tracks. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to be a stowaway.

Blasphemy

For a football fan—or should we, say football club fan to be precise—names matter. A Man United follower won’t ever confuse Giggs with Drogba. However, that allegiance may well be kept aside when it comes to merchandise for cricket-loving aam janta. To them, the stuff is just that—merchandise, nothing more. Which is actually quite a thought-provoker. After all, football club  adherents in Bombay can’t even locate the cities their favourite clubs are based in, on a map. Whatever be the argument, it’s amusing to come across a commuter on the Harbour Line wearing a jacket sporting Manchester United while carrying a Chelsea-painted satchel. Ignorance is bliss at times, isn’t it?