The quintessential Mumbai local is not for the faint-hearted but is the cheapest and fastest means of transport in the linear city. The Mumbai suburban railway comprises a network of trains referred to as local trains. The local trains serve almost 7.5 million commuters daily. The network is an extension of the railway system built by the British in India and is the oldest in Asia.
Overcrowded and claustrophobic the Mumbai commuter stalks life and limb when he boards a coach of the Mumbai local. Yet he must take a particular train to work every single working day. He scrambles jostles, cusses and fusses as he strives to find a seat. In spite of trains running at intervals of 3 minutes the crush and rush at peak hours is simply unimaginable and bust be seen and experienced!(put it on your bucket list, if you as yet have not experienced the bitter-sweet ride on a local).Very often your day is doomed if you miss your ‘regular’- A fast or slow to your destination. Again, you might experience times when you don’t have to move to exit or enter the train; you are simply pushed in and out. The first train starts at approximately 4.00 hrs and the last train to anywhere is at 1.30 am.
I commuted to and from work on the Mumbai local many moons ago. I slipped into the ladies’ coach in the early hours of the morning then frantically looked around for a window seat or parked myself on the nearest available seat. I also had to change trains but commuting in the early hours in the morning I escaped the crush and rush. I have fond memories of shopping trips with mum to Marine Lines and Crawford market, commuting by the local.
As for me, at fifty plus I enjoy the occasional ride and like most women continue take pleasure in ‘local –train’ retail therapy.It also happens to be the fastest means of commute, given the merciless traffic jams that the hapless commuter is subject to when travelling by road.
The trains today, are undoubtedly sleeker and prettier in mauve and white as against the previous yellow and maroon but Mumbai is bursting at the seams. Commuters tumble out and stumble in as the train halts at each station. Seats are occupied in the blink of an eye and on a bad day you may find yourself standing for the entire journey.
Entering and exiting the ladies’ compartment is no better but the compartment is a ‘people and place watcher’s’ delight. Women will exit each lady’s coach while another group impatiently prepares to enter. Tucking in her saree palao, gathering their children close to them, tightening their holds on their bags and generally preparing mentally and physically to board or disembark, the ladies are ready. The train halts for two minutes at each station. Within that time, ladies as everybody else must exit and enter the coach. You might trip over a hot- headed fisherwoman who has no qualms about parking herself at the entrance of the compartment, but you don’t want to mess with her. The lucky ones get the coveted window seat. Those of more generous proportions while asserting their right to a seat will try to squeeze in attracting some killer looks and caustic remarks. Three can comfortably occupy the long wooden seat, the fourth must sit a tad uncomfortably but then ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’ A common query- cum- request is, “where are you getting off? Please keep the seat for me.”
Harried housewives, giddy collegians, nerds, mothers with young children, a few senior citizens, the single lady, a new bride all must catch the local to their respective destinations. While some are the stern-faced the ‘mind your own business’ type, others will deign to exchange a smile with you. You can safely tell your life story to the lady sitting next to you, with never a chance of bumping into each other again. The collegians are talking a dime to a dozen, while the nerd prefers the text book. The office-goer tidies herself up and the harried housewife takes a nap. The senior citizen opens a prayer book, the new bride takes a call on her cell phone.
Very recently the railway authorities have experiment with closed door coaches in the first class ladies coaches and the reactions have been mixed. Speaking to the Free Press Journal, Sudhita Chodankar, a commuter from Borivali, said: “Despite just four people being present in the compartment, it felt stuffy and dimly lit... Thought in terms of security, closed doors seem to be a safer option for females, especially in the night.”
The skeptics felt that the concept would not work, given the Mumbaikars’ penchant for standing at the exit or hanging from the door.
You grow up with childhood friends, school friends and college friends then forge office friendships. If you are a Mumbaikar you will have made another class of friends – ‘train friends.’ So very often train friendships are converted to ‘best friends forever friendships.’ Train friends celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, promotions and life in general.
When hungry on a Mumbai local, don’t worry! Vendors selling bhel, chiki, samosas and an entire array of snacks are constantly breezing in and out. Stock your refrigerator with vegetables and fruits available on the train. Many a working wife or mother may get down to cleaning the vegetables there and then. Stationery, handkerchiefs, toys, fashion jewellery, and a host of cosmetics which include lipsticks, nail paint, eye makeup are yours for the taking.
Gentlemen generally scan the newspaper, catch up on lost sleep, get together for a game of cards, discuss films, politics or cricket or simply stare out of the window, watching the world go by. The odd vendor may try his luck.
The Dabbawallah (lunchbox carrier) collects hot homemade food packed in dabbas from residences of working people and through some amazing networking and coding delivers the lunch boxes to the office goer. The Mumbai local is his means of transport. How dabbawallahs coordinate and deliver the food.
The city lifeline is a great leveller. Religion, caste, creed, social status have no place as you are jammed together like a pack of sardines, with a common goal of each reaching your destination. The first class compartments are a shade less crowded than the second class coaches but all the same chock-a-block. It is not unusual to see dare devils travelling on the roof tops, footboards or on connecting bumpers in between bogies all for the lack of space.
Commuting by the locals is nothing but the ‘survival of the fittest,’ as the newcomer will learn. His argumentative skills are also honed every now and then and in no time he is transformed into a true Mumbaikar. Undoubtedly the heartbeat of the city would be stilled without the quintessential Mumbai local.
Fast forward to 2019. There's been an addition to the local train family. I find myself stepping into the newly inducted air conditioned local train. Orderly queues mark your entry, no vendors and basically a more comfortable commute.
Welcome Metro - Taking commute to another level.
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