Life of a Mumbaikar

Closing hours are the happiest in any office. The joy of day drawing to close, ticking clocks overhead, desks swept clean of files, papers, unfinished tasks pushed into drawers for tomorrow, despatch the day's posts to sabeb's cabin, one last trip to the powder rooms while not forgetting the refills of bottled water for the long journey.


More delay meant missing the regular local train...... just then saheb walks in announcing video conferencing with ministry - urgent data needed for upcoming Lok Sabha question question hour. Oh really....with parliament paralysed for the entire monsoon session what could be urgent -titters all around.


Bless the guy who created computer, it saved the day. Next few minutes are spent in frantically jabbing the keys- darned contraption decided to hang, in the crucial moments......Aaah !! finally it kick starts off...... retrieve data .....dash out prints quickly, and we're done.


Who says sarkari daftar doesn't work.
We work in strange ways -20th century non functioning equipments, crazy ideating bosses, unrealistic targets, dead phones and missing files, stumbling shady filing racks, rickety ladders, woefully under staffed, so expect minimal cooperation depending on circumstances.
It's magical how things work!!.


Made it just in time... rush without another backward glance lest boss calls. It's a marathon flight to the railway terminus with relentless rains and traffic. Looks like the skies decided to burst open flooding the city. Streets are full of battling crowds, fast and furious in a sea of umbrellas, slush of water puddles, overflowing drains , vehicles splashing water around, people staggering to find their feet.


The station is already buzz with people clutching dripping umbrellas ,bags , drenched- haggard -wretchedly, a shadow of their morning selves. One would not recognise them devoid of their morning glory - make up, hair, attires crushed after a hard day. The platforms are now brimming with people anxious, fearing delays which meant upsets on home front that includes delays in fixing dinners, picking children from crèche, supervising home work and school assignments, preparing for the next day, all spelt worse. The time schedule indicators have blanked off, by now. Finally, after many minutes a lone train appears on the horizon -the crowd euphoric, dismally outnumbering it's capacity.


Alert - Positions perfected for the precise jump for the prized seat. Seasoned regulars know the vantage positions for the coveted seat, assesssed with donkey years of travel. The indicator comes alive miraculously, and there is a collective whoop of joy from the waiting crowd, assured of timely take off. Saris hitched, dupattas tucked firm, men with sleeves rolled, arms flaying, bags , briefcases, knapsacks thrust out of way, all eyes focused. The train chugs into the platform spraying water from roofs, and the blaring sirens swiftly silenced, the roaring engines stilled, as it comes to a grinding halt. The motorman smiles in familiar aqueisence at the waiting crowd.


The battle for seats is fought with greater ferocity in the evenings. A mad frenzy ensues......push pull tug yank and all piled in- over in matter of seconds. The I and II Class, both look alike, cattle class, as once famously remarked by a maverick poltician. All seats taken, even the non existent 4th place where you can barely perch your butt. The not so lucky ones hang around hopeful for someone to vacate early. Space is premium with people crammed wherever legroom afforded- at aisle, exits, hanging by poles, doors, windows. All space occupied , legs spaced perfectly for next few hours journey, baggage deftly loaded on to the racks and people get busy with evening repast.


Popcorn, peanuts, vada, samosa, and other assorted snacks packed neat and lugged around by vendors, make tidy business. The bhelpuri vendor carries his wares in shiny containers tossing the chana, sev, boondi, chopped potatoes, tomatoes, onions, coriander, with generous sprinkle of magic spice mix, a dash of lime, into the paper cones. The chic folk settle for coffee, muffins or sandwiches , slick packed in trendy take aways while the diet conscious prefer to munch nuts or fruits of the season. College kids devour their tiffin with gusto, gossiping merrily of the day's events. Amidst these, the vegetable vendor makes brisk business selling veggies picked and sorted into little packets saving time and effort, for your evening meal. The flower girl eagerly thrusts forward, fragrant flowers packed in large teak leaves, not to be left behind the trinket seller pushes his wares of bangles, clips, hairbands, bindis, finger and toe rings. 'Made in Korea' he says proudly assuring quality.


By now the passengers are adequately occupied, wired into the latest movies , music, and games for next couple of hours. Candy crush seems to be the flavour of the season with women. Some ladies are busy thrashing out their day's office politics and family matters in quick succession. Others are engaged in picking veggies or shelling peas, while the knitters and readers jostle for elbow room with laptop users. Weary ones doze off, lost to the world and anxious mothers supervise home front on mobile phones for remainder of the day.


With tempers frayed with the day's stress, any trigger could be reason enough for explosive fights, so little niggling irritants are best ignored in a crowd. The men's compartment charged with card sessions, suddenly turns chaotic because someone misplaced a laptop bag while handling the baggage rack . The ladies have their skirmishes over treaded toes and knocking knees, any flying hair, dupatta, or sari, bags or umbrellas spaced wrong beyond limits could be a cause, or even a 4th seater stretching more than permitted space. So be well advised not to venture beyond your butt area. Outstretched hands , knees, feet, is strictly not permitted. Sitting uptight, shoulders squared is recommended if you wish to escape eyeball to eyeball situation or profanity.


All of five minutes and the train hoots, chugging out of the terminus. The vendors rush off the running train with practised ease cutting through the crowd, landing neat on their feet. Those who missed the train are running alongside, frantically, trying to gain foothold, these are towed in, suitably pulled by the good samaritans hanging by the entrance poles at the doors.


The chaos temporarily settled, and soon again, in a matter of minutes the platforms are brimming with people all over, for the next train seen approaching at a distance.

 

Thanks everyone, if the write up touches a chord I'm truly glad.