It was my destiny, fate, luck or karma, call it whatever you
like, that brought me to Mumbai - a city which horrified me from the very beginning.
A city known for almost all the wrong reasons – riots, floods, crime and its terrifying
perpetrator – the underworld. A million other atrocities plague this city which
proudly calls itself 'the city of dreams'. More often than not, one comes
across swarms of people, mechanically performing their mundane tasks as rituals
that ought to be done, without fail, each day. Despite all this, what has started enticing me
about this city is the fact that in the folds of what appears to be
commonplace and tedious, one finds a plethora of interesting sketches. Every
new day presents an opportunity to look for these stories. A dear friend of mine lived through one of these stories and narrated it to me. The minute I heard it, I felt like putting it on paper. So, here goes....
'Another day draws to an end in this painful city'. These were his thoughts as he got into one of the heavily crowded local trains on his way back. After a rather rough day at work he was most certainly not looking forward to another hour and a half of struggle on his ride home. Steering through an ocean of tired and irritated people, he found his way to an empty spot at the far end of the compartment. A little sympathy and a lot of wriggling got him a tiny patch to sit on. With his back to the perforated partition, which separated one pitiful second class compartment from the other, he was glad he couldn't witness the mayhem in the next compartment.
Settling into his seat, his thoughts now riveted to the good old days back home. The knowledge that in a few days he would bid adieu to all this madness and head back to his peaceful city of Lucknow comforted him immensely. In fact, it was perhaps this very idea that kept him going. He was certain that his days of misery and struggle would end once he left. Just as he was beginning to feel placated by these images, he was jolted out of his reverie as a little finger poked him through one of the holes in the partition. Already irritated and drowning in self pity he turned around, ready to snap at whoever had yanked him out of his peaceful refuge, only to find a cherubic face staring at him bearing a couldn't-care-less grin. He couldn't help but smile at the chubby wretch, who less than a second ago was the cause of his annoyance.
Almost as if it was his right, the naughty little boy stretched out his grubby palm and demanded for alms. He did not beg, he did not plead, he just insolently stood there and yelled for money as if it was his own. But for his clothes and appearance, the boy reminded him of a rich heir, spoilt rotten, rightfully demanding a portion of his legacy. Alas, no one in the near vicinity looked interested in shelling out change from their pockets, which would instead be exchanged for frivolous little things like cigarettes or candy later in the day.
Knowing for sure that he would not get anything from these people, the boy proceeded to pull faces at whoever cared to look and sing bawdy songs in a high pitched voice to annoy the pathetic crowd. Like a pole dancer, he swivelled around the pole at the entrance of the compartment. Despite themselves, most of the commuters were by now quite amused by his antics. At one point the boy hung out of the train holding the pole with one hand, not once bothering about the peril that he was putting himself in. Some people craned their neck to get a good look at him but most of them could only see him waist-up. The silent spectators, completely engrossed, watched the beggar who seemed to enjoy life more than them even though in all probability he didn't have a penny in his pocket, a home to call his own, a family to look out for him or a warm bed to snuggle in at night. He appeared so content wearing rags and asking for alms.
The train screeched to a halt and the man again squeezed his way through innumerable sweaty bodies, clamping his brain and ego shut to all the abuses thrown his way and jumped out on to the platform, pleased immensely by his own acrobatics. Just as the train started to pull out of the station, he glanced back, only to see the same boy who had entertained him throughout the otherwise boring journey and what he saw got imprinted in his memory forever, the cheerful little boy, with a twinkle in his eye and an abundance of energy was standing on the entrance of the compartment on just one leg.....
'Another day draws to an end in this painful city'. These were his thoughts as he got into one of the heavily crowded local trains on his way back. After a rather rough day at work he was most certainly not looking forward to another hour and a half of struggle on his ride home. Steering through an ocean of tired and irritated people, he found his way to an empty spot at the far end of the compartment. A little sympathy and a lot of wriggling got him a tiny patch to sit on. With his back to the perforated partition, which separated one pitiful second class compartment from the other, he was glad he couldn't witness the mayhem in the next compartment.
Settling into his seat, his thoughts now riveted to the good old days back home. The knowledge that in a few days he would bid adieu to all this madness and head back to his peaceful city of Lucknow comforted him immensely. In fact, it was perhaps this very idea that kept him going. He was certain that his days of misery and struggle would end once he left. Just as he was beginning to feel placated by these images, he was jolted out of his reverie as a little finger poked him through one of the holes in the partition. Already irritated and drowning in self pity he turned around, ready to snap at whoever had yanked him out of his peaceful refuge, only to find a cherubic face staring at him bearing a couldn't-care-less grin. He couldn't help but smile at the chubby wretch, who less than a second ago was the cause of his annoyance.
Almost as if it was his right, the naughty little boy stretched out his grubby palm and demanded for alms. He did not beg, he did not plead, he just insolently stood there and yelled for money as if it was his own. But for his clothes and appearance, the boy reminded him of a rich heir, spoilt rotten, rightfully demanding a portion of his legacy. Alas, no one in the near vicinity looked interested in shelling out change from their pockets, which would instead be exchanged for frivolous little things like cigarettes or candy later in the day.
Knowing for sure that he would not get anything from these people, the boy proceeded to pull faces at whoever cared to look and sing bawdy songs in a high pitched voice to annoy the pathetic crowd. Like a pole dancer, he swivelled around the pole at the entrance of the compartment. Despite themselves, most of the commuters were by now quite amused by his antics. At one point the boy hung out of the train holding the pole with one hand, not once bothering about the peril that he was putting himself in. Some people craned their neck to get a good look at him but most of them could only see him waist-up. The silent spectators, completely engrossed, watched the beggar who seemed to enjoy life more than them even though in all probability he didn't have a penny in his pocket, a home to call his own, a family to look out for him or a warm bed to snuggle in at night. He appeared so content wearing rags and asking for alms.
The train screeched to a halt and the man again squeezed his way through innumerable sweaty bodies, clamping his brain and ego shut to all the abuses thrown his way and jumped out on to the platform, pleased immensely by his own acrobatics. Just as the train started to pull out of the station, he glanced back, only to see the same boy who had entertained him throughout the otherwise boring journey and what he saw got imprinted in his memory forever, the cheerful little boy, with a twinkle in his eye and an abundance of energy was standing on the entrance of the compartment on just one leg.....
you are in mumbai????
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