Ghatkopar to CST by fast train

Arrey Arrey Chadho Chadho ... Abe Ghus, GHOOS ... Arey Andar Chalo, CHALO!!

In case you thought these are lines from some obscene Dada Kondke film, wrong you are !!! This is what I hear daily in the course of railway travel from Ghatkopar to Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus.

Lets start from the beginning. The Mumbai rail is the fastest & cheapest mode of transport for us Mumbaikars. Without it we are doomed! Since we are always in a perennial hurry, it suits us absolutely fine. Its like buying an insurance policy, protection against loss of time & less expense. However, like all insurance policies, there is a cost attached to it. And by Toutatis, what a cost it is!!!

I mean, not that my quarterly railway pass costs a bomb, its a mere Rs. 1000/- easily affordable for a middle class person these days. Now, this is the first class pass by the way.

'First Class' ... normally you would associate that term with something like 'Royal', 'Regal', 'Supreme', 'Superlative', etc, etc. A first timer would not be wrong in supposing that in a first class compartment, he would be fed with food, fruits, juices, Frooti, Appi, Limca, Thums-up, Seven-up .... yahan kucch bhi nahin milegaa, nariyal paani bhi nahin.

Milegaa to sirf kisi kaa punch ... laath ... aur mukka!!

Scene I: the coverage of the fast train platform.
Its choc-a-bloc full with ladies & gentlement, boys & girls, children of all ages!!! Their eyes are riveted towards the direction in which the train's going to arrive from. Typically, everyone would be standing about 3 feet from the edge of the platform. Once the announcement is made ...

Scene II: the announcement.
'Aath bajkar dus minat ki .. bara dabbon ki .. Mumbai Chatrapati Shivaji terminus jaane wali .. tej local .. thodehi samay main ... platform nambar chaar par aa rahi hai'
... everyone moves a foot closer to the edge.
When they sight the train at the distance, everyone moves another foot closer. And then ...

Scene III: AAKRAMAN!!
Arrey Arrey Chadho Chadho ... Abe Ghus, GHOOS ... Arey Andar Chalo, CHALO!!
This is even before the poor commuters inside the train have been given a chance to get down.
How they manage to get down God Only Knows! They scurry out like mice escaping a stick, some cover their faces and jump out, some hold their office luggage in front of them and leap out, some duck and dive like into a swimming pool, some ... well the list is endless.

Same is the case with the people getting in. They push hard, harder, hardest. They exert such violent force that would make even a richter 8 scale earthquake pale in significance. In such circumstances, everyone is kinda reminded of their hidden strength like Lord Hanuman was! The difference being that the 'Jai Shri Rama' chant is replaced by 'Arrey Arrey ...'

Out of ten, maybe six get their entire bodily girth inside the compartment, the rest are left dangling like monkeys on a tree branch. They shout, they yell, they elbow-barge their fellow commuters, basically try everything to get even their bodily girth inside. I don't blame them, for there are these poles that are very close to the tracks, and you might well end up injuring an arm or a shoulder against them when the train picks up speed.

But how do they get in? For there are about 500 people inside already! The lucky few are sitting and snoring away to glory, completely oblivious to the pandemonium around (its an art, by the way). Some are standing in between the seats, trying to balance themselves like a one-legged chick on a pole. The rest are ... well ... do you remember having read Asterix the Gaul? At the end of the fights between Asterix, Obelix and the Romans, the entire Roman army is left battered in a pile of human garbage ... thats exactly the 'drishya'.

Most of the people try to clutch the handles above and because of the obscene mismatch in number of hands vs. number of handles, you get 17 hands on one handle. Poor handle! Some try to clutch the overhanging pipes, and in the course of action they become 'Spidermen' as they swing from one section of the pipe to another. Others are so jammed up between two commuters that they can't do anything but cringe and submit to their fate. These people involuntarily end up doing a lot of yoga aasanaas, like the type taught by Baba Ramdev.

A lot said about my fellow commuters, but what about me? Being part of this insane melee, I also end up performing a lot of aasanaas. I do the 'Dushaasanaa' where I pull the shirts of my fellow commuters to get into the compartment (with the honest intention of not disrobing them). My favourite is the 'Shavaasanaa', where I pretend to be listless and unconscious, and let myself float in this ocean of madness. The advantage I have is that I have a thin but athletic body frame. I can withstand more shocks than those who have a much healthier constitution. However, my attire suffers most!!!

Between Ghatkopar and Kurla, because of the lack of standing space, I invariably get a lot of shoe soles on my trousers. My well-ironed shirt gets crumpled. My shoes lose their shine. On rare occassions, my belt comes off the buckle, and I sheepishly put it on without anyone noticing, albeit with tremendous difficulty, since I have to get my hands down from the handle, without a milimetre of space to maneuver.

At Kurla, a great crowd gets out, but an even greater one gets in!! Yaa Khudaa! So I have to then cover my face in order not to get hit my the oncoming skulls, elbows and office bags. At Dadar however, about 60% of the crowd gets out, and then one can glance around and witness the plight of fellow commuters. For the next couple of minutes, people readjust their trousers, in-shirt their shirts, comb their disheveled hair, etc. etc. I typically notice a map of Rajasthan on my trousers everyday.

Proceedings from there on are a cakewalk, for more people get down at Byculla, and then comes the great Chatrapati Shivaji terminus. Between, a most horrendous odour is emanated from decaying fish between Masjid and CST. But that lasts just a few seconds.

At CST, the entire junta gets out and so comes to an end a 30 minute ordeal, one which I need to go through every single day. What was that compartment again, ah! a First Class compartment. And to think that I have to make the trip back home in the evening!!! I cannot even imagine the plight of my fellow Second Class commuters.

I pay the government Rs. 1,000/- per quarter and suffer a thousand uncomfortable positions everyday. Even the great Pitamaha Bheeshma would rather sleep on a bed of arrows than travel by the Mumbai local!!

I have learnt to live with this pain. Every time I get miffed, I bring to mind that old golden tune ...
'Aye dil hai mushkil jeena yahan
Zara hatke, zara bachke, yeh hai Bambai meri jaan'.

Come to think of it, if the railways stop functioning for one day, nay, one hour, life comes to a standstill in Mumbai. Love it, Hate it, but you can't live without it.

I hope Laalu bhaiyya and the authorities do something to ease the pain of the millions of daily commuters. I cannot expect everyone to be as tolerant. Hopefully in the years to come, we should see better infrastructure ... maybe a Metro in about 5 years (hopefully thats not expecting too much).

Till then ... Gata Rahe Mera Dil ... Arrey Arrey Chadho Chadho ... Abe Ghus, GHOOS ... Arey Andar Chalo, CHALO!!