Braving the Mumbai Local

mumbailocaltrain

Source : Internet

It was around 8.15 p.m. I waited in trepidation at what could possibly come, anxious, and mustering up my every resolve. Childhood memories came flooding back.

I was eight years old, my last trip to Mumbai, the city I would later revisit only after marriage. Dad had taken me around for a Mumbai Darshan. And the moment, the train stopped, people had come flooding both in and out. “Bacchi hai. Bacchi hai”, my dad had cried as he lifted me and shoved me into  a train packed with people. I don’t know how he did it. He gave one arm to me which I clung on for dear life within the coach, and with his other arm, he caught the hand hold. Getting out of the train was a similar affair where he lifted me, and yelled “Bacchi hai” to avoid being crushed in the stampede of people entering and getting out.

Landing to the present – some 17 years later, I waited for the train to arrive. “Lady’s compartment is there”, a man pointed out.

A lady with a kind face and, in a black dress is engrossed onto her tablet reading a book. She looked up and smiled – which did help me calm me a little bit. “Take this train “, she said as a slow moving local made its way onto the platform. Surprisingly the women’s compartment wasn’t as crowded as the details I heard. It probably helped that it was around 7.50  pm also (I was caught in the complete thick of it the next day, and realized they were right!)

I had a place to stand. I thought it maybe because of the comparatively later hour. A saree clad lady entered the compartment at the next station to sell her stock of trinkets. A policeman briskly walked up and stood on the footboard of the train at least for the next eight stations.

I also noticed the seat reservation mechanism in the ladies compartment. I was told later by a colleague it is exclusive only to the ladies compartment. “Which station?”, they enquire as soon as they get in, and then book their seats. Some actually offer when they get up, but in the thick of the crowd, its always the seat reservation mechanism.  I looked around me. Most ladies were hooked onto their earphones with eyes fixated on their mobile. Some with seats managed to sleep. And others were looming large over potential ladies whose stations were coming up.

And finally.. it was I looked through the window and saw my station come up. When I got down, I saw my husband was waiting with a smile.

“So how was it?” He asked.

“Not so bad” I responded, with a sense of accomplishment.

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