Travelling in trains is like a surprise gift for Diwali or
birthday (which you prefer more to celebrate?). You never know what it is gone
a be, A happy surprise or a distasteful junk to be parceled to new address ASAP
(As soon as possible)
If you live in Mumbai you will know, train is part of our daily
life as it is lifeline of the city. You are bound to travel in one, whether you
hate it or like it. Over the period of time you start to enjoy the moving
circus.
There is always new story to live or to tell. Right from the
dangerous and absolutely illegal and never recommended stunts to the characters
you come across in the dabba. Yes the compartment is called dabba in Mumbai,
more like an overflowing dabba. Today I am sharing the story of a man with an interesting
philosophy of life, who lives it with pride everyday and I was fortunate enough
to experience it with him.
It was general day, heading office in peak hours without creasing
your perfectly ironed shirt or without spoiling you polished shoes is an
adventure in itself. I got into the train and spotted a place to stand (mind
you, it is an achievement or a feat to do so with your over bulging bag with
you) I got some stares from the fellow commuters but traveling in train in
first class, it is a normal thing.
I always preferred 2nd class over
this arrogance dabba a.k.a 1st class. In 2nd class commuters
are helpful and more accommodating than the snorty and adamant commuters in 1st
class.
I settled myself between a man with an overwhelming aroma of
hair oil and an old man with curious singing style. All were busy in their own
world, in their own private space (this
is one of the good parts of Mumbaikars. We have learned to find solace in crowd
rather cribbing about the over population and migration). Suddenly there
was a shout, “You don’t have any manners?” and all eyes were searching for the
point of origin from where the sound traveled and so was I and my eye rested on
a middle aged man shouting and arguing with a man standing on the door and
ignoring his antiques.
(As I said earlier
local train here are like overflowing dabba. You will find at least 5 people
hanging with their dear life on the door to reach to their destination and
which is very normal for a routine Mumbaikar)
Irritated by the ignorance coming for the guy hanging by the
door the man shouted again on a higher pitch and this time getting little
personal in abuse, “pata nahi kaha kaha se aa jate hai 1st class
mein” (point to be noted; You can abuse a
man on his name, religion or geography but if u define him by class then that
is an ultimate war horn in local train). The old man caught attention of
the guy standing on the door; he was red and furious in a second and started abusing
back. This is when the whole compartment caught their attention and were ready
to get entertained and if necessary ready to participate in the show which is about
to go down.
Listening to the comeback coming for the guy on the door the
old man was taken aback but with so many people witnessing the battle of the
morning train he had to stand his ground and come up with fierce but logical
rant with emotional touch, so that the crowd starts taking his side and the
battle is half won.
The whole thing was going down just 5 feet away from me but
nobody bothered to know or question why this quarrel started is the first
place. Everyone was too much involved in hearing name calling and comebacks
that it never crossed anybody’s mind to know the cause of the disturbance. I was
too curious to let it go, so I rewinded the event which I witnessed and scanned
for the cause but then somebody shouted from behind, “Arre agar tujhe itna hi pyaar
hai apne bag se, toh haath mein pakad na, dusro ko taklif kyun de raha hai”. Then
I realized the whole fuss was about a bag… yes a bag.
This man hanging on the door gutka eating, gold flashing
dude had his bag suspended on his portable hook to the door which was causing nuisance
to the man standing behind it. Yes… you
heard it right; he had a hook of his own for his bag. Listening to that I was
automatically for the man who started the fight and rest of the commuters also
started arguing with the guy to take his bag down in his hand and avoid causing
trouble to fellow commuters but the gutka eating gold flashing dude was not interested,
he behaved like he was not bothered by others discomfort unless he and his bag
are comfortable and in place. This raised the temperature of the commuters in
the compartment and it was turning to be physical brawl when there was a long
and loud alap. It came form a commuter behind me, exactly behind me. Everyone
went silent for few seconds in the compartment and had a weird look on their face
staring at the man. He was carefree about the situation he created for himself
and continued with his singing.
“malish… telllllllll malish
Sir jo tera chakraye yaaaaa dil duba jaye. aja payere paas
humare…. kahe ghabraye…. kahe ghabraye
malish… telllllllll malish”
In a second the whole crowd started laughing on him, having
giggles, getting back to their personal solace place in the crowd. I was too
shocked to analyze what just happened, from a motivated violent crowd to gentle
strangers again, it was a transformation you have to see to belive it. I had to
talk to the man (he had a great voice).
I turned and gave a big grin to the man. He saw me and said “That is what I am looking
for”. My face shifted gear from big grin to confused curiosity. The old man
caught the sudden shift and told me,
“Beta, agar hum safar mein bhi apne bhaiyon se jhagadne lage
toh safar sundar kaise hoga. Manzil sabko mil jayegi, par manzil pane ki kushi
tab badegi jab safar sundar hoga”
I was awww struck to what I heard and experienced in the
span of 15 minutes of my train ride. I wanted to talk to the man more and get
his name. But Dadar station arrived and like the sheep herd moving in unison I was
pushed out of the compartment and I lost the man in the crowd.
You never know what, who you come across to get a life
lesson that will be with you for the rest of you life.
