Not so "WEST"ern - WR(सुबुर्बन रैल्वाय)

"I'll be holding one bag, you hold one. He'll make a grab for the doorway; I'll push him from behind. You just cling to me. Don't, I repeat, DON'T let even a breath of air come between us or...,"
were the words of wisdom from my Mumbaite friend, who made me see MUMBAI on my very first day in this 'city of life'.True to his changed loyalties, any suggestion of taking a cab or some other decent means of transportation was brushed aside with an adamant NO-NO. And reinforced with 'If you have not travelled in a Mumbai local, you have not visited Mumbai, you have not lived, you don't have any adventure spirit...' and so on. Finally, we conceded. We took Borivili local from Dadar through W.R. i.e. Western Railway route, timings of our train were unfortunately matching with office timings of passengers on that line of rail. Looking at few trains which just passed by infront of my eyes, I got a fair good idea of the rush in and how I will board the train? But I was wrong, cos the trains which whisked by were in opposite directions(Bvi to Churchgate) and were still empty as per my friend's opinion, though I saw every single soul standing in it.

Our local came, we were at door, I was waiting for it to halt so that I can step in, but to my surprise, I was automatically propelled-in the compartment with a force from behind along with my airbag.Having no idea where my pal is, frankly speaking I didn't care about him that time because I was preoccupied with thoughts like,'Is my bag on my shoulder or somebody else's?' , 'Is he pushing me or is he pulling me?' , 'Which station and how will I get down?'etc.But then I recapitulated my friend's words which goes like, "one needed to force one's way through the people jammed against the entrance of the compartment; the direction you took depended on whether you needed to get in or out of a compartment. " Vibes inside the compartment were different, someone is reading newspaper in late evening hours, few others(lucky ppl who got the seat since, they boarded train at very first stop) sleeping...well nodding,elite one's listening to i-pod's or Radio Mirchi ..donno,few also manage to play games on their cell phones...I was struggling for standing there; forget about playing or reading stuff.Some govt. officials(easy to rcognise by there unique dress and talks) were doing which we Indians are good at...discussing politics,and above all we also had small group of people pulling-off their penchant for playing cards very well in that claustrophobic place making briefcase their multipurpose casino table.I don't have any recollection of what happened after travelling few minutes in that - adventurous trip. The next thing I remember is hearing someone scream in agony, only to realise it was me. Someone was standing on my foot. Now I was really angry; 'mera UP ka khoon khaulney laga'..hey..but the moment I turned behind towards one person , I pacified my vengeance and smiled looking at his scowling expression, I understood that this guy can give me worst trouble ,minute I utter a word. Besides, someone was pulling at my bag. Others were pulling my arms. Everyone was behaving as if mangling me would lead them to nirvana. But I was in the compartment in mute mode maintaining my equanimity with pleasure as I am returning from a holy tourney.
After pushing, shoving, twisting and turning -- it took a ride in a Mumbai train to
make me realise how supple the human body could be!.The spirit of man made famous in Hemingway’s “ Old man and the sea “ can perhaps be seen in real life in the Mumbai's trains.Praying to GOD with my open hands, that Almighty ..let my stop come before I lose my last breath.And as people say sooner or later your prayers will be answered, mine got too ;my stop came .I held on to my bag for dear life and frantically looked for my anchor, my friend whom I was supposed to 'stick to'. Seconds later, I found myself standing pulseless and dyspneal on the platform and my pal approaching towards me from next 'cell'.My hair and clothes were dishevelled, but I was beaming. Still holding on to my bag, I raised both my hands in the air in triumph. Everyone was staring at me curiously but I did not care. They had no clue how proud I was of myself. I had successfully accomplished my first journey on one of Mumbai's local trains.
Mumbai's lifeline took my life for a ride but I whole heartedly salute the spirit of people of this city who inspite of all odds, accidents - still have their eternal faith in this govt's efficient service for its people.The government's railway
machinery deserves kudos in what it continues to achieve through its excellent service, and the mind –boggling numberof passengers (I donno how many of us know, It holds the World record passenger traffic density) it serves with excellent frequency of trains in all seasons.Now I am a regular traveller in this mankind's greatest invention to Mumbaites (especially) and have made few train-friends who sometimes keep a seat for me, if not that at least the place to park my two legs; rest I wangle.Believe me, this article is too less to publish about much-famed local train culture which truly has a life of its own that it celebrates each day, in the midst of clamour, heat, perspiration, bone-weary exhaustion and no elbow room.