When late Mr .Neil Armstrong took his first step on moon, that very moment froze into his memory and was stored safely, somewhere deep into the alleys of his heart and he took that memory with him when he took his final breath.
Now unfortunately, destiny didn’t give me a chance to land on moon and I know I am nowhere near it, not in decades, not even in my dreams. But the same way good memories patch up on our cerebrums, bad memories too last enough into our head, long enough for us to share it with our children or grandchildren if we are lucky enough.
I have one such memory from the past, it was, well who cares what day it was, besides I don’t even remember what day it was. I took the train from Virar to Churchgate, boarding at Miraroad station. While leaving from my relative’s house, (I don’t have a house in Mumbai and I am not having it unless I get some hidden treasure chest or unless I rob a bank, both almost impossible, at least for me) I was told to be cautious of pickpockets and about the rush in the locals, which I mocked by boasting of my reflexes and my physique. Nevertheless, I reached the station and somehow pushed myself into the compartment after hearing the common slogan of all the commuters which goes by, “Poora Khaali Hai”, i.e “It’s all empty in here”.
I took my first step in that local and rest was history. I felt as if all the forces that Sir Issac Newton or any erudite physicist derived were acting on me. I realised the difference between rush and chaos, the difference between moving and being dragged. I could now easily understand how the moon pulls the oceans and thus form tides. In that nick of time I was applying Pascal’s Laws of pressure and whether or not I would succumb to the pressure of the umpteen bodies pressing my body? I held my breaths and tried to push them away, only for them to retreat with double or triple force, bending my knees and making my stomach kiss my spine. It was then I knew the scandal behind Newton’s third law of action and reaction, which totally failed in a Mumbai Local.
I had to alight at Bandra, and amidst all this push and pull, I was informed by a sweet voice from the speakers above my head that I survived until Andheri and that the next stop was Bandra. The good thing about Mumbai locals is that you just need to stand in the gangway and people would readily push you towards the gate and eventually towards your destination when it comes. It was my luck that I stood in the gangway and I knew from the uneasiness of people that Bandra was near and while standing there I tried to notice people and there came a wind of sundry thoughts and questions in my mind.
What if someone had to itch his back in this chaos, or God forbid what about a person whose bladders were about to lose the battle of patience. What if someone ate a radish last night and didn’t care much about air pollution and its immediate effects. It was hard to arrive at an answer and I pray no one ever finds the answer to these questions Himself.
In that neck-breaking rush, there were people playing cards and people laughing and playing pranks with their group. There were myriad voices emanating from every corner of the compartment. I overheard the talks of the rising inflation, of team India winning the series, the girl who eloped with his boyfriend and of the new restaurant that gave free soft drinks with cheese sandwiches. While I was constantly fed with such varied information, the loudspeaker again blared and this time it was Bandra, and people hurriedly pushed me outside the compartment, safe and sound yet thrilled and enlightened.
It was all a very chaotic and claustrophobic experience for me as well as my body. I thought that one of these days my diaphragm would break into two halves if I continue travelling in such monstrous means of transportation. I thought if I did some grave sin back in my hometown that I was sent here to study engineering. But soon I became accustomed to the chaos of locals and sooner did I grow fond of travelling in it. I made friends in it, ate sevpuri, played cards and did everything which I now miss. Now when I am done with engineering, when I am away from Mumbai, I miss all the thrill and excitement of local trains and how it taught me to be steadfast and stubborn. How it taught me that where there is a will, there is a seat.
Stories have a moral behind it and this too has one and I maybe wrong in my assumption but I feel that our life is like the journey of a Mumbai local, filled with hardships and tests but at the end of the day this journey has to end and like all those people pushing you at your station. One day people will push us inside our grave and that would be curtain for our life’s Show and before that happens we must make sure that we achieve our goals and we must ensure that if not ours, we can at least try to make the lives of others better, if not best.
