Mumbaikar's have souls too

(A Near-Death Experience late evening on FEBRUARY 18, 1999)

I glanced at my watch. It was 8.50 PM. "Rohit, I better be going now." Dwarakesh (Daru for us), ever the practical gent, echoed my views, "Rush or it will be quite difficult for you to get your train". The next thirty seconds were spent on choices. My train to Hyderabad was to start from Bombay's (or should I say Mumbai’s) Victoria Terminus (VT) at 9.55 PM. I was at Bandra, quite a distance away having just finished dinner at Rohit's house. The business trip was just for a day and I managed to squeeze in some time to meet Daru and Rohit, both my business school seniors. I was meeting them after a really long time. Lots to catch up and very less time.

Daru was skeptical as to whether a taxi straight to VT would be able to beat the 9.00 PM traffic and make it in one hour. A direct train to VT might take 45 minutes. Supriya (Rohit's wife) then asked to me go to platform 5, grab the train to Church Gate station, get down there and take a cab. With this option, there was a fair chance that I'd beat the deadline. Thanking them and catching an autorickshaw took another couple of minutes. As the auto noisily zoomed by to the Bandra station, my nervous glance at my watch said 8.55!

Rushing through the crowded Bandra station through pacy white/blue collar workers, business execs discussing strategies, dogs, beggars, the lame and the invalid, I got a ticket to VT hoping that with this way, I can catch either of the two local trains, VT or Church Gate. I rushed down to platform 5 (faithfully following Supriya's instructions) only to find a Church Gate train whizzing past. "Bhai saab, I need to go to VT by 9.55. When is the next Church Gate train?" I asked one passer-by. "Arre, if you want to go to VT, why are you standing here? There are enough direct trains to take you there". "No, But I just have less than 50 minutes". The watch was showing 9.07. "That’s okay, your VT trip won't take you more than 35 minutes" he said in his cool, assured Mumbai Hindi.

Why I ditched my Church Gate taxi plan, I don't know, but this gentleman sounded fairly convincing, I climbed up the stairs and went down to platform 6. It was 9.10. All I could do was wonder aloud, "Let’s see what happens next". "Hello ji, this is the VT platform, right? " "Yes! Yes! Where do you want to go?". "Actually, Hyderabad! My train starts from there at 9.55". "There is one train at 9.15. But I think it’s late." With this, my next guide went elsewhere leaving me with my mathematical jugglery on delayed trains and faulty planning. "But I can't miss this train. I need to be back in office tomorrow. There is no point in staying back here for the weekend looking for elusive reservations or uncomfortable alternatives like a 16-hour bus journey".

As I came back to the present from my thoughts, my watch said 9.17. Announcements in three languages kept on coming with the lady profusely apologizing without much sincerity about some Borivli train starting 15 minutes late. "I don't care a damn, ma'am, where is my VT direct?" I talked back to those obsolete megaphones. 9.20. To my utter horror, I saw a Church Gate train coming quite matter-of-factly on platform 5 in front of my dismayed eyes and leaving in 30 seconds as per plan. 9.24. “Where the hell is my VT now? There is no time to wait for VTs with their slow jaunts and contempt towards normal timings. The next Church Gate is my last opportunity".

9.28. As I started subtracting 55 from current minute dials and was doing reverse calculations, another train started approaching platform 5. Without any further thought, like one of those seasoned Mumbaikars, I jumped on to the rail-lines as the train stopped. Just then, I saw another train approaching my platform 6 as onlookers told me loudly to watch my step. "What the heck? Church Gate it is for me". I threw my briefcase & bag into the compartment and hauled myself into the train. "No one expects anyone to climb from the rail-side while designing bogies", I realized as I climbed a good six feet and got into the train just as it began moving hearing the "tut, tuts" from others standing-by.

The next stop off-loaded some passengers and I managed a seat. 9.31. "Goodness, lets see what happens now". "Bhai saab, I have a train at 9.55 PM from VT. I plan to get down at Church Gate and take a cab. Do you think I'll make it". My neighbor (lets call him Merv for his huge moustache which looked like those of Merv Hughes, the Aussie Cricketer) was visibly alarmed. "What is this? You should have started earlier". Chastising me made it more comfortable for him to do some clear thinking. "Yes. Yes. You can make it. That’s what I feel". What do you think?" He asked the man right opposite to him who was busy chatting with his window-seat-occupying friend. "About what?" Replied the white collar middle-aged Government Servant (GS, for reference).

Merv told my entire story with great flourish along with my Church Gate plan. Merv's neighbor at the window seat responded first. "Don't worry, You can just make it". I looked over and saw a youngish traditional looking chap with an unshaven 3-day bearded face with an earring on top of his ears, not through the lobes, but right through the cartilage. The Earring man looked at his watch. "Its past 9.35. Lets see." he said. At this time GS spoke quite emphatically. "Forget Church Gate. Just forget it. Get out at Marine Lines and take a cab from there. That’s much better."

The GS-Crony sitting next to him at the window seat echoed his senior friend’s words. "Aise hi karne ka hai (you should do like that)”. GS, obviously inspired by his crony's loyalty reiterated his plan. "By the time you reach VT in the cab from Marine Lines, this train would be just reaching Church Gate".

My bearded neighbor opposite spoke for the first time with an I-have-seen-this-so-many-times smile gleaming all over his face. "Mushkil hai ji (It’s difficult). I don't think you'll make it”, said the bearded pessimistic philosopher (I'll call him Philo). Having said that, I guess he wanted to assuage my tensions as well. So the Philo quickly added. "But why bother? These things happen in life all the time. You catch some trains, you miss some trains" espousing the supreme irony and will of fate in all things mundane in life including that of getting into and out of trains. The time was 9.38.

By this time, the entire 5-man gang of the coupe had just one mission in life “to ensure that I catch my 9.55 to Hyderabad”.

Merv and GS were evidently irritated by Philo’s words. They obviously had no time for these kind of rambling train Philos. Merv said Church Gate or Marine Lines is fine with him accepting the better judgment of GS. Earring again asked me not to worry. "Its 9.43 now!" said I. "No problem. Mil Jayega (You'll get it)". GS and his crony chorused together "Hey, we are getting down at Marine Lines. Come with us.” Philo softened his stance considering that he was not getting much support for his truths of life. "If the train is meant for you, you'll definitely get it". He said with an air of finality and got down at Church Road.

Grant Road also came and went and the time was 9.47. Finally, GS and crony got up and gestured me to be ready for the next run. We got down at Marine Lines with all three of us running to find some escape routes between the railings so that I could jump straight to the road and hail a taxi. Unfortunately (and surprisingly as well), the rails were continuous throughout. "If you take the overhead bridge, you'll lose a minute. Are you prepared to jump over these pointed rails" GS asked. "Oh, yes" I had no problems whatsoever.

I gave my briefcase to GS, put my shoulder bag on both shoulders and squeezed myself between the pointed rails and a huge, long I-shaped iron bar, which made a smooth climb difficult. I took the briefcase back only to find that the road was quite a level below. "This is no time to evaluate heights and their impact on my fresh-from-surgery right leg. When you gotta jump, you gotta jump". I shouted thanks to the waving duo and jumped 8 feet down to the footpath. "Get a car from the other side" shouted GS.

The traffic was fairly intense and I ran to the middle of the road. Standing at the road divider, I wildly gestured at an oncoming taxi to stop. He surged ahead to my anguish, but then stopped at the pavement slightly ahead. I ran behind him as he was reversing the car for me, threw my bags into his car and said, "Boss, you have exactly five minutes to take me to VT. My train to Hyderabad is just about to start". The genial Muslim kaka with a combed beard and no moustache became visibly tensed up. "You should not rush in the last moment like this. What will happen if we get stuck at red lights?" and he dashed past.

The first junction gave us a green, the second one was an amber. The smiling kaka said, "You’re very lucky", only to find us stuck at the next red light. "Don't worry, this is the last traffic junction for us". He speeded past many other cars, honking in between to reach the station. Getting next to the main entrance was quite a feat what with tens of cars clamoring for space. But kaka drove past, imperiously blasting his horn in the process. "15 rupees" said he. I handed over two tens to him. "Sorry, I don't have change", kaka said. "Truth or opportunism?" I wondered. "Keep the change and thanks" and I ran into the railway station.

"Goodness! How do I find the platform now?" The electronic signboards were running live tickers on trains and their positions. The Hindi one said 7001, platform 9, right time 21.55. I rushed to platform 9 and saw my train there. The first sigh of relief... The last two were general compartments and there were too many people blocking my way outside. I sped off to the nearest AC compartment at sight. "Damn! Not mine!" The next one also was not mine. The time was 9.56. The third one happily turned out to be bingo on target (HA-1). I put my briefcase in first and the train started to move. I grabbed the iron handlebar and swooped myself into the train.

I went inside and found my seat. I sat down and breathed normally without any adrenaline for the first time in over one hour. I was still wondering whether all this was actually happening or whether I'm in some sort of a dream or a trance foolishly believing what I wanted to believe. The arrival of the ticket examiner brought me back to my senses. As he handed the ticket back to me, I sighed the deepest sigh of my lifetime and muttered to myself "What a clincher it was... and how!".

My track record on photo finish journeys has been fairly good so far. Like the time I went to the airport at 8.00 in the morning for a 6.30 AM flight and managed to secure a ticket for the 8.30 AM flight (which I thought was what my flight in the first place). Or when I forgot my only suitcase leaving my aunt’s home at Kuala Lumpur for boarding the flight from Kuala Lumpur to Singapore (to Chennai) much to her anguish. The driver did 140-160 km/h on his Volvo and brought it back for me ten minutes after the departure counter was closed!. But all said and done, I'm sure my wife won't be very amused with this tale, methodical and tensed up that she is about traveling....

The final word from me would be to say that in the big, bad world of metro Mumbai, it’s easy to conclude that the people are heartless and couldn’t care less. What I’d like to say is that Mumbaikars have souls too, it’s just that they are too busy chasing trains to display it all too often.