once upon a time in dadar

As the steady trail of comments from my unknown Chinese fans continue (much appreciated guys, even if you are just spammers and hackers...lets face it i am quite comfortable with being needy), and the skies continue to shed endlessly, i have a little nugget to tell.

Of all things that are making bombay fun for me, the least has been the train. And mind you, i have my systems pretty well chalked out. Living in bandra, i get the starting train at 8:57am, empty, spic and span, with enough room for me and my umbrella to rest comfortably. Add to that, i have the back-up of the 9:18am which means i get 10 min more of nap time. super. Now that seems idyllic doesn't it --- a morning train, empty, 20 min to office and an evening train back without much chaos. All this bullshit about Bombay being a tough city to travel in - what a bunch of baloney.

or so i thought. All this changed one morning in my first month - the blessed day i missed the 9:18am backup.
Troubled, confused, i finally managed to locate an alternative train heading towards my office form the adjoining platform. Things seemed pretty much under control. The train came in, passengers got out, we all got in, the rains continued and i got ticked off again for waving my umbrella. typical day i thought.

now here's a bit of background. there are 2 stations between bandra and dadar - 1) mahim junction and 2) matunga road. Ipod plugged in, newspaper out, i swayed blissfully with the rhythm of the train. Blame it on the morning rain, or just a good hair day, but i was feeling jolly - smiling at the regulars on the train, moving aside for the passengers at mahim and wondering again why in god's name they would name a station - 'matunga'? (we even have an 'elephinstone'...but lets not get into African derivations here).

But something seemed wrong as we crossed matunga station. i could feel it for a while, brimming under the surface, but now it became more evident. The regulars stopped playing cards and huddled up close to one-another. The 4 guys who were defying death till 5 minutes ago by hanging half way out of the train suddenly had a change of heart and came inside. The smiles slowly turned to serious grims, the ipods came out, and some sort of re-alignment seemed to happen. It was on auto, as if a drill they could all do in their sleep.

The corners went first, then the space along the walls and finally the aisles.I was left hopelessly in the middle, clueless of what was about to happen. As the train slowed down at dadar station - all i remember hearing was someone in the adjoining cabin screaming "dadar aa gaya, dadar aa gaya". bam. and then it happened.

now i understand that bombay is a multicultural city - people from all over come here, and live harmoniously. they fight, bicker but there's still some common unsaid bond of humanity that connects them. Come dadar, and i was beginning to question this whole notion itself...
They came in, as warriors, savages looking to hunt down their prey. They came as vikings - born to own and rule - they were pirates - they took, never asked. They were hustlers yes sir. Came in, synchronized, experts at this deed. Used their stomachs for leverage, their hands for balance and their numbers for impact. They dint smile. Hell, they knew they dint need too.

The message was pretty clear - comply or be prepared to die. And within a matter of seconds, the train - from being a joy ride with familiar faces became a concentration camp on wheels, plummeting forward. You wonder what'll kill you first - the sheer force of a 100 bodies stuck dangerously close together or the odor that comes along with the experience.
I'm quick on my feet else id been kissing the floor in no time.

Once in, the the second leg of the journey begins. How do you manage to get out at your station? Now that ive done this a few times, i can share my strategy. You feel a bit like Abhimanyu, weaving through the chakravyu, one man at a time. A hop to the left here, a step right there. A little shove here, slip in your umbrella there. Playing tetris is a good way to practice.
You cautiously ask the man in front "boss, lower parel utarna hain?" - pray to god he says yes, cause otherwise its back to the drawing board. And so you try again, this time in another direction, hopefully with more people watching your back.

It really does make you question why you take the trains every morning? why you chose to slum it out without really needing too? and why is it that despite all this daily chaos, you feel your tolerance level has reached a new high?

The answer seems simple enough really. This is the flavor of the city. Bursting at the seams with all sorts, shapes and odor of people. You might enjoy a little bubbled existence for a little while, but there's always a dadar to put things right back into perspective.

the city's a constant struggle - but isn't that where great fighters are born? you decide.