Coming to Mumbai was a dramatic story in itself, but
pointless to mention for the very obvious reasons. After a journey of around 30
hours (OK, I wasn’t nominated for some award for that), I ended up at a Railway
Station called VIRAR at 3:00 AM in the morning. Being a Delhiete, I have more
than enough reason to worry for it was a small station where construction was
on. Going out of a railway station, in a relatively remote area is the last
option you’d consider in Delhi. But I was told that it’s not insane to go out
at 3 AM in Mumbai, except if you are extremely unlucky. I have got the address
where I had to go so the next thing in my mind was to find an Auto-Rickshaw and
haggle with them over the price before getting into the auto. Nevertheless, I
got an auto rickshaw in a matter of second and I was dumbstruck when he said he
will charge the fare according to meter readings.
What! You have a working meter installed in this vehicle?
And more importantly, you are going the make this thing decide how much I have
to pay? Who on earth possibly does that? You guys need to be trained by our
Delhi Autowallahs. How else you going to learn that engineers haven’t invented
this thing to give reading. They should be rather used for flaunting, or just
as a symbolic representation- similar to the coin-operated pay-phones in public
hospitals. Making these innocent meters is a serious crime, something like
child-labor.
Nonetheless, I reached the place and slept like a log. Next
morning, I was all set for the usual schedule - quest for breakfast. Oh dear
lord! This country needs to set up a constitutional right for opening mandatory
Parantha-corner in every street of the nation that would sell Aaloo Parantha in
breakfast. We can ensure Right-to-Education and Right-to-Equality thing later. Vada-Paav
was the only option that I found which sounds familiar and within the budget
for I cannot afford restaurants. Dealing with Marathi-speaking people was another
stupid experience. Stupid, because most of them know Hindi -or English for that
matter- but still expects you to talk in Marathi. It’s fine that you care so
much about your mother-tongue and there is nothing wrong about it, even
constitutionally. But if you are expecting me to speak the language I don’t
understand, I have only two words for you – Fuck-off. No offence, but I
mean it.
Bus-stands have a common sight of people queuing up to board
the bus. In Delhi, we rather use Rush-and-crush-to-make-your-way to get into
buses. Chaos is the simple solution we offer to all such things. People in
Mumbai are always in hurry, even though when they don’t have to go anywhere,
perhaps because old habits are highly unavoidable. Talking of habits, the
people of Mumbai, like any other cities in Indian subcontinents are bound to
wave their hands at buses approaching the bus-stands. They sincerely believe
that the bus might skip halting at that particular bus stop and they may end-up
getting late for their offices where their respective bosses will relive all
his/her anger that they must have accumulated during family fights. So in a way,
waving at buses is their defense mechanism against potential victimization of
their existence.
Roads in Mumbai are not a thing to be proud of when it is
compared with their counterparts across the nation. Or maybe it is. See, if you
visit the moon and take a quick look of earth from there, there will be only
two things visible: The Great Wall of China and the potholes of Mumbai. Some of
them are big enough to be used as a water reservoir to ensure water supply for
1/5th of the city. Mathematically speaking, if you calculate the
effective surface of the plain road and that of the potholes, you would realize
that on a relative scale, the area of plain road can be ignored for its infinitesimally
negligible value. However, people still believe in halting at traffic signals
(as far as I could observe till now). Had it been in Delhi, the increase in acceleration
is inversely proportional to the time left before change in signal turning
green to yellow to red. You see, halting at red light is totally pointless, and
dangerous for that matter. In Delhi, you simply can’t afford to halt your
vehicle at red light not manned by any traffic policeman. If you do so, you
might end up being ran over by the vehicle behind you because not everyone is
as stupid to care for traffic rules as you are.
People in Mumbai are the real gem, indeed. Hailed from
different part of the country and braced it like their own city is what I liked
about the place. A city should be treated like one’s mother and she will repay
with equal generosity. However, littering is still a great concern and people
are still following the Indian rule of cleaning: your house is not clean until
you pass the garbage in your neighbors’ compound. A running life with stagnant lifestyle
is the identity of the average Mumbaikars. Change is the only constant and
things are actually change at a considerable pace, if you consider the recent
history. Mumbai has too much to offer, too many stories to tell, too many
things to care about. This is indeed a city of dreams.
PS: Mumbai Local, the lifeline of the city has been
deliberately omitted because it is not justified to shorten the legacy due to
word limits to keep the post shorter. Next post will be dedicated to the Mumbai
local, for sure.
PS2: This post is just an observation and not based on any
kind of opinion. Every observation are subjected to reconsideration if needed.
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