The Longest Night

Genre: Non-fiction

Its yet another dark rainy Tuesday afternoon, common during Mumbai monsoons and at 2pm just after the lunch break, students in a class in VJTI in Matunga are discussing whether to sit for the next lecture or not, one eye on the heavy rain that is pouring outside. No unanimous decision is reached and half the class bunks the lecture and leaves while I am in the other half that decides to sit for one more hour before leaving, hoping the rain would subside by then. By the time the lecture is over, the rain has shown no signs of subsiding. Rather it is pouring harder, nothing unusual about it, we see days like these every monsoon. Me and Sid are taking a cab to Dadar station when dad calls on my mobile- "Do you want me to come to Dadar to pick you up? The trains may not be running". I shrug off his offer- "No need. I'll go to station and see. If trains are not running, I'll let you know". We reach Dadar station and heave a sigh of relief to see the indicators still showing Borivali Slow and Virar Fast as usual. We get into the First Class coach of 3.20 Borivali Slow and it runs smoothly through pouring rain to the first stop- Matunga Road and then to Mahim. After the usual 30 second stop, it departs and slowly ambles along and comes to a stop in the mangrove-filled area between Mahim and Bandra. 

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, half an hour, the train shows no signs of moving. By now some passengers have jumped off the train and started walking on the tracks. Me and Sid discuss "How silly! Why can't they just wait inside rather than getting drenched like this." I call up dad and tell him the situation. He suggests coming to Dharavi overbridge by car and once he is there, I jump off the train and get on to the bridge and the car. We wait. An hour passes. And another. Dad says he is stuck somewhere in Chembur at the other end of town and suggests we do not wait for him and start moving ahead on our own. Now this is a bit worrying. We look around. Everyone has left the coach except us and one other man. We jump off the train onto the tracks, and not wanting to stay back alone, the Bihari man, we call him Gajodhar, also jumps with us. We walk along the length of the train towards Bandra and when we reach the driver's cabin, we realise the extraordinary situation at hand- the motorman has abandoned the train, locked the cabin and left! Now this is something I have never seen or heard happening in Mumbai rains. We walk along with hundreds of other passengers coming from various stranded trains until we reach the Mithi river bridge.

The railway bridge on Mithi river, though not very long, is treacherous. It has no walkway, no safety railings, in fact not even a firm base. There are metal sheets laid between the tracks, through which now we can see the usually quiet and stinky Mithi river now overflowing with water whose speed would put whitewater rafting locations to shame, and this just two feet below track level! There is no option, the river has to be crossed. Volunteers ask passengers to form a single human chain, holding each others hands, to carefully walk over the rickety metal sheets and cross the bridge. We somehow manage to do this, and think the ordeal is over since now we can safely perch ourselves at Bandra station, bot how wrong we are! The sight at Bandra station is one I have never seen before. All the tracks are filled with water upto platform levels and the entire station looks like Kumbh mela, overflowing with passengers occupying every single inch of available space. Now one thing is clear- there is no way trains are going to run anytime soon. We need to find alternate transport. We walk out of the station, hoping to walk to SV Road a few hundred meters away and take a bus from there, but wait! The entire road from station to SV Road is filled with knee deep water, and its dark. Impossible to walk through this. As if this is not enough, to add to our woes, Gajodhar has been following us all along and declares "I am new to this city. I don't know how to reach Borivali. I will come with you guys wherever you are going!"

Me and Sid look at each other and decide to go back to the station. On platform 2, there is one local train standing amidst deep water, powered down but filled with passengers. We tell Gajodhar to wait inside this train as it will go to Borivali while we go to use the washroom. Making sure he is well inside the train, we run away from that platform as fast as we can. Its around 8pm already when uncle finally manages to get through one call to my mobile through the congested network. He says he is travelling by car with his boss and should be crossing Bandra shortly, and ask me and Sid to manage reaching SV Road somehow. We walk out to the bus station. As we are discussing the possibilities, one BEST bus driver decides he will brave out the deep water on the road outside and take his bus to Bandstand! Immediately we hop onboard along with a hundred other passengers and ask him to drop us beyond the flooded street on to SV Road. As promised, he revs up the engines, turns on the headlights and pierces the bus through nearly three feet deep water and stops safely near SV Road where a majority of the passengers get off. We walk to the decided spot on SV Road and wait for uncle. We wait and wait. An hour passes. We see hordes and hordes of people walking and realise the situation doesn't seem good anywhere in the city. Around 9.30pm, uncle comes in his boss's car and we are overjoyed to find dry shelter and a ride home. Or so we think.

The driver decides to continue on SV Road since the highway is jam packed, but traffic cops divert us on to Linking Road citing water logging ahead. So far so good. There is traffic but its crawling at a decent pace. It takes an hour to reach Khar. From here, we are diverted into some small lanes where we get stuck and how. An hour passes but there are no signs of movement. Uncle's boss doesn't live far from here but we have a long way to go. So he suggests we rather get off and start walking like the others and after initial hesitation, we give in. Its around midnight now, the rain has stopped for a bit but some areas have power cut, so it is dark, wet and terribly crowded. By midnight we make our way to SV Road and start walking northwards with the huge crowd. Students, office goers, businessmen in expensive suits, celebrities, everyone is walking together, Mother Nature has brought everyone to one level. Upto Santacruz the walk goes fine but then its trouble. SV Road around Juhu airport is flooded with two feet of water but thankfully there is help at hand. hard working folks from Mumbai Fire Brigade have formed a human chain, have ropes set out for people to hold on to, and are guarding open manhole covers. In one single line, hundreds and hundreds of people slowly cross the long waterlogged stretch. We are hungry, dead tired but our survival instinct keeps us going and we reach Andheri station by 3am.

Once at Andheri, we hope the trains have started running again so we head straight to the station, but no luck. There are trains parked on every platform, packed with passengers, but with no signs of moving. Also, walking further is not possible since the cops have closed SV Road north of Andheri station due to excessive water logging. There is no option but to find shelter somewhere close by. Sid lives in Andheri but far from the station, so the ordeal is not over for him either. Luckily soon he finds a truck driver who is willing to take people onboard and drive towards where Sid lives, so he hops onboard. Me and uncle cross over to the east side and head to a building nearby where one of our relatives live. We walk into the colony, dead tired, in the dark owing to powercut, and find our way up the stairs and ring the doorbell. No answer. Ring again. No answer. Finally we ring the doorbell of their neighbours who wake up startled. We ask them to phone our relatives and wake them from sleep! They do it, and finally the door opens and we get a place to sleep for the night, or whatever was left of it, since it was already 4am. We wake up and head to Andheri station by 10am, and turns out, by then train services north of Andheri is just beginning to restart, although not as per timetable. After a half hour wait, the train we are onboard starts, and slowly but steadily drops us at Malad station, from where its a five minute walk to Home Sweet Home! 

Thus ended the ordeal. The journey that took 20 hours to travel 20 kilometers. Thus ended the night the city suffered as one, came out in the dead hours to help each other and stand united. Thus ended the longest night Mumbai city has seen. The night of 26th July 2005.  

When Will This Stop?

Genre: Current Affairs

So, yesterday Mumbai once again witnessed serial bomb blasts. 1993, 2003, 2005, 2008 and now again. Once again the common citizens of the city have lost lives even as the culprit of the previous attacks enjoys VIP treatment in special jail and the netas of the state "offer deep condolences", their lazy fat asses safely tucked behind a wall of security personnel. This has reached a stage when I no longer feel enraged at the terrorists doing these attacks. The rage is entirely towards the spineless incapable government, of the state as well in Delhi. As someone had rightly said, Civilizations fall not so much because of the strength of the enemy outside, as through the weakness and decay within. 

Now the moment I say this, some smart Alec will come up with the straight-out-of-Civics-textbook statement that "it is we who elected this government, so whatever is happening is our fault, and next time we should ensure we bring the right people to power". True, very true theoretically, but if only things were as simple as that in reality. Did "we" really elect this government to power? Talking of myself, I did not. In the last election, many of us did not vote for the well-known corrupt candidate. We went by the "We want change" principle and voted for an IIT engineer who was contesting the election with the utopian idea of "Be the change you want to see". But what happened? He lost badly and like every time, the same corrupt politician won the election. How? Votebanks. In this "largest democracy in the world", most of the winners are decided much ahead of the election date. How and why does this happen?  

Take an example. Before every election, a politician from a certain party visits a slum locality near my residence and offers the people living there a cash incentive and foodgrains to vote for him. If he did this to me, it wouldn't swing me in favour of voting for him, because for me principles matter more than the money. But does the same apply for my maid who lives in that slum? No. For her, the money matters more than principles. Why? Because she is poor. Why? Because she is uneducated. Can I do something about this? Yes, encourage her to send her kids to school so that they don't get pulled into this same quicksand. In the meantime, how do the existing politicians afford to spend so much money on their votebanks? Because they are shamelessly corrupt and accumulate millions of rupees in bribes. Can we stop this? Theoretically yes. How? By getting a strong anti-corruption bill passed in the Parliament. Will it happen? No. Why? Because the sitting MPs will reject any bill that plugs their "source of income". Why? Because they are in power and they can unanimously do what they want to. Can we remove them from power and get someone else in? Theoretically yes, but practically nearly impossible. Why? Because they have vote banks. Why do so many people vote for corrupt politicians for money? Because they are poor. Why? Because they have not got enough opporunities to get educated. Can we get them all educated? Possible, but a Herculean task. Will the existing government want to sincerely do it? No. Because that would mean digging their own grave. Why educate everyone and make them rise up to vote on principles and get thrown out of power when its easier to "buy" their votes with little money? 

In short, this is a very messy vicious spiral. If India aspires to truly become a world superpower, this spiral has to stop. How to do it is a very difficult question to answer but someone has to do it. Someone who? We, the citizens of India. We need to realize voting is not the only way to bring about change. Do we have that potential to bring about the change? Yes, we do. Incidentally, the people of India showed what potential they have to come together and unite for a cause yesterday itself, in the aftermath of the serial bomb blasts. While the TV news channels were busy shouting out irrelevant stuff about how they were the first to report the blasts and assorted bullshit, scores of unknown heroes, common men and women from across the country, had risen to the occasion to quickly send out accurate information and help anyone and everyone in need, on Twitter. Within minutes of the blasts, hundreds of unnamed citizens had given out their phone numbers and addresses on the social networking site offering complete strangers either a place to come over to stay, a ride back home from work, food, first aid, blood etc. Someone came up with this brilliant idea of collecting this information from the tweets into a Google doc spreadsheet and within one hour there was a list of over 250 people in different parts of Mumbai whom people affected by the blasts could contact for help. This particular document soon went viral and many of you must have noticed it being shared on Facebook too. This is the power of social networking. This is a small trailer of what the citizens of India can do when united for a cause. But to bring about a pathbreaking change such as overthrowing a government, it will not be enough for just the Facebook-Twitter junta of India to unite. It will require encouraging the very large poor and illiterate population of the country too to join in and fight for principles. This will need someone who can bring the whole country together. Something like what Hitler did in post World War I Germany. And in the current scenario, I can think of only one personality in India who has that influence over the entire nation that people will come out and do whatever he asks them to do- yes, Sachin Tendulkar! But I don't see him doing that anytime soon, so we have no option but to wait until that one messiah comes up and unites the entire nation against the corrupt leadership. India needs an Egypt type revolution. 

Until then, keep outraging, take out candle marches, talk about "the spirit of Mumbai" and keep paying taxes on time so that the netas can continue to afford to travel with their security cordons and Kasab can enjoy one more serving of his favorite biryani.  

(Not-so) Tourist Friendly Map of Mumbai

Genre: Random


Inspired by Krish Ashok's Madras Map, presenting a map of Mumbai that is very tourist friendly. Or maybe not.



Satellite Image Courtesy Google Earth. Edited and used for non-commercial purpose only.

Mumbai Local 101

A (not-so) comprehensive guide to Mumbai local train travelling for newcomers.

Objective: At the end of the course you will have acquired the skills to ride and survive the Lifelines of Mumbai, or will flee away forever.

Pre-requisites: Common Sense (yes, a bit too much to ask for, but it is required)

Before the Journey.

Make sure you are mentally and physically prepared. Wearing an armored suit and helmet is recommended, but not necessary.

Buy a ticket. It is very easy. Each station has around ten ticket windows out of which seven are permanently closed, two will have “Lunch Break” at any given time of the day and the remaining one will have a short queue of approximately 158 people. Once you reach the counter, remember the staff is a big fan of Obama- they demand change. All the time. You can bypass this procedure by charging your way ahead of the queue and asking for Coupon booklet, the probability of availability of which is 0.0016 and if you get one, remember the Coupon Validating Machine is officially on the UNESCO list of endangered species. Alternately, you can be tech-savvy and buy the Smart Card and head to the corner where you see a person groping and pinching a touchscreen all over the place. This activity might give you some pleasure, but does not give a ticket.

Now that you have acquired a ticket, it is time to find your train. Locate an indicator board and search for train to your destination. There are not many options to get confused. You just need to know some letter codes- A, Ad, An, B, Ba, Bo, Bl, Bs, By, C, D, Di, G, K, Kp, M, N, S, St, T, Tl, V to name a few and remember that he train can be 9-car, 12-car or 15-car; Slow, Fast or Semi-Fast (occasionally Double Fast and no more Bada Fast) and that it can be on either Western, Central or Harbour (which is also Central but not quite Central) line. Once done, go to the appropriate platform. You will find several passengers striving hard to improve India’s medal tally at Olympics by practicing high-jump over fences between tracks and long jumps across open gutters. Resist the temptation to join the noble cause. Use the bridge. Look at the indicator boards on the platform. You will see names of several places lit up. Locate your destination. If it is lit up, your train will stop (if you are on Central line) or will not stop there (if you are on Western line). If nothing is lit up, it simply means rats ate up the wires.

Boarding the train.

Walk along the platform and smartly choose your position. If you are male, do not stop by near the large group of young women. There are better places in the city to flirt/chance maaro/ogle (discussion beyond the scope of this course). Also, do not stand in front of a pillar colored in funky red and yellow stripes. No, it is not a message from aliens nor location of an African dance party. Once the train is in sight, you can decide to don one of the following three roles-

1. Super Man: Hold your belongings close to your chest and jump right in before the train stops. It requires accurate calculation of velocity and your trajectory needs to be at an angle of tan-1 (0.1032) w.r.t the direction of motion of the train, failing to achieve so can result in you banging against a window instead of a door.

2. Mango Man: Like the aam aadmi of India, stay passive. Do not do anything. The crowd around you will drag you inside. Simple and easy. Remember to wriggle yourself out of the wave at the right time, lest you end up inside one of the reserved corners of daily gangs.

3. Fattu Man: Stay at the back of the platform. Watch the entire crowd make their way in. Watch the train depart without you. Repeat.

Inside the Train

If you tried strategy #1 to board, there is a 2.95% probability that you will manage to catch a seat. If so, yes it is an event worthy of updating your Facebook and Twitter status proclaiming the same. If ten people gather around you asking you to vacate the seat, do it. Resistance is futile, unless you want to experience being lifted, passed over several people and thrown out of the coach. If you have to stand, find a place that falls in the area of operation of the fan, which extends upto 2 inches from its perimeter. But this does not mean you stand in the middle of the door passage. Doing so will give you a first hand experience of how electrons and protons feel inside the Large Hadron Collider. If you are in the middle of a densely packed crowd and see a food item such or sweets passed to you, eat it. Consider it “Bonus level”. Do not doubt its origin or intention. They’ll find your lack of faith disturbing and appropriate action will be taken. If you are a keen observer, you will notice several men moving back and forth in suspicious patterns. No, they are not doing what you think. A majority of the crowd is straight.

There are protocols you need to strictly follow. If you are in a general second class compartment, if there are 3 passengers on a seat, you can make hand gesture along with use of the phrase “Boss, thoda…” and claim access to 3 inches worth of seat to rest your (half a) posterior on. However, doing the same in First Class will result in expulsion. If you are in the Ladies coach (No! If you are male, you cannot be in the Ladies coach) you have to verbally “reserve” a seat for yourself by asking every sitting passenger which station she is getting off and laying claim to that seat. Grabbing a seat reserved by others will result in an unacceptable level of noise pollution. Number of people allowed to stand at the door is fixed at 4 for First Class, 5 for second class, 6 and more for Virar locals in peak hours. Number of people allowed to sit on the long seat at the end of the coaches is fixed at 7 for non-peak hours, 8 for peak-hours, 9 and more for office hours when atleast 54% of the occupants are known to each other. These figures have been arrived at after years or optimization and are not variable.

Alighting from the Train

Like boarding, for alighting too you can choose to don one of the three roles, but with different outcomes. If you decide to use the Super Man approach and push your way through the crowd, you will be allowed to go ahead without warning until you reach the open door and eject yourself out even before the train has reached a platform. This can be done only once per lifetime. If you decide to be the Fattu Man and stay put in your place for too long, Newton’s First Law applies and you will find yourself inside the train until it reaches the yard at midnight. The Mango Man approach has the maximum probability of safe ejection. The wave will push you out, provided you start at the correct location. To avoid the catastrophe that the entire wave of crowd gets off but you do not move at all because you were in the wrong wave, always ask the row ahead of you “Bhaisahab, Dadar?” if you want to get off at Dadar.

Additional Info

Several finer points and a list of FAQs will be provided fr this course at a later date.

Appendix - Pain in the ass

If this course was too difficult to understand and you wish to have a less complicated solution, you need to be a movie star in which case a part of the coach will be vacated; or the heir to the Royal Family of India in which case you will be allowed to travel in First Class on Second Class ticket and train diverted to platform of your choice. For others, Bon Voyage!

Open Letter to Barack Obama

Genre: Current Affairs

Dear Obama,

It gives me great pleasure to know you will be visiting my hometown Mumbai, India with your family next week, your trip coinciding with Diwali. Your timing of the trip could not be any better. For Indians, Diwali is a time for celebration and I know you are no stranger to this fact, after all you delivered a flawless telemprompter-assisted speech this day last year explaining the same to Americans. It is a day when Indian families visit friends, go shopping and burst firecrackers. However, this year thanks to you, this will not be possible since roads across the city will be blocked for hours and public places cordoned off for your humble caravan consisting of only 78 cars to pass. Breaking away from the monotony, common citizens will get an opportunity to spend their Diwali day in their cars, waiting in traffic. I am also told you will be arriving by Air Force One along with a total of forty planes. The citizens of Mumbai, confused whether you are arriving on a presidential visit or leading a full-fledged air invasion, will thank you from the bottom of their hearts for shutting down Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport for two hours, delaying around fifty flights, giving them a priceless opportunity to see this spectacular sight.

I am sure you must have read The New York Times and other US newspapers criticizing a certain man called Mukesh Ambani for building a $1 billion 27-floor house for his family of five in Mumbai. I am glad to know that you, instead of getting discouraged by such criticism, have decided to go one step ahead and book all 570 rooms in the Taj Mahal hotel in Mumbai for your family of four. I, and hundreds of other graduate students studying in universities across your country have had their research assistantships and funding curtailed, having been told by the university that the country is going through an economic crisis and it is time to be frugal and save every dollar possible. However, it feels great to know you will not be following this policy and will be taking every effort on your trip to showcase the power and wealth of the United States.

I have come to know from your official sources that you would not be visiting the Golden Temple in Amritsar because you believe it would project you as a Muslim, although you are not one, and malign your reputation. However, I see your wife will be visiting Kamathipura. Going by your logic, this would project her as a prostitute, although she is not one. I guess you are fine with that.

Thank you once again for your humble low-key visit.

God Bless America!

India According to Mumbaikars

Genre: Humour

Click on image to view full-size

Water

Genre: Something-new

It started like any other rainstorm, but what took everyone by surprise that Mumbai never saw rain at this time of the year. At around 3pm, I started from Dadar to head back home fearing water logging if I waited any longer. But it turns out I was already too late. The maddening downpour coupled with heavy winds never seen before had wreacked havoc on the transport system already. Roads were blocked and trains were struggling to stay on track. The Borivali fast I took was stranded somewhere between Mahim and Bandra. After an hour of wait, we were marooned. There was knee-deep water on the tracks, and then one strong gust of wind brought down one of the metal pillars holding the overhead electric wires. That was it. There was no way the trains would start again. Seeing this, some passengers tried jumping into the water, not realising those wires that just fell in the water carried 25,000 volts of electricity. They were electrocuted and died a painful death before our eyes.

I was trying hard to contact someone to rescue me, but all cellphone networks seemed jammed. It is then it stuck me what I had learnt in my engineering days- in times of trouble, never call, always use SMS. I did that and luckily managed to get in touch with a friend driving home in his Tata Safari. I instructed him to come on the Mahim flyover. After another hour, the wires were now devoid of electricity and so was the water. Slowly, we managed to jump on to the tracks, now submerged in waist-deep water. As I was plodding my way, I experienced the ground beneath me giving way. The tremors were stronger than I ever experienced. It was an earthquake. Bigger and stronger than Mumbai had ever witnessed. Within a minute, as I looked back, I saw the old railway bridge over Mithi river collapse into the swelling waters with a huge splash, taking with it few coaches of a stranded local train with it. This was just the beginning. As I looked west, the sight I saw was terrifying to the core. The western pillar of the Bandra Worli Sea Link collapsed on to the eastern pillar and both of them came crumbling down in to the Mahim bay with a ear deafening thud. The sight reminded me of 9/11/2001, New York.

I somehow climbed on to the Mahim flyover from the embankments and got into the Safari waiting on the bridge. We tried to dash through water-logged streets as quickly as possible. The tremors had brought down most of the hutments in Dharavi. I instructed my friend to drive east and out of the island as fast as possible. I knew if we wanted to survive, there was only one road to take- the elevated Eastern Freeway, if it had survived the quake, that is. As we dashed towards Wadala, through tire-deep water, we found the Monorail was still intact and in a position to run, except that the electricity was not available. The passengers stranded somewhere near IMAX station in the tiny coaches were trying hard to break the windows to jump out, which would have been suicide anyways. The Eastern Freeway had survived, so far, and we joined the other fleeing Mumbaikars to reach the Vashi creek bridge where another horror awaited us- the old bridge had collapsed and the water level in the creek had gone up so far, it was hardly three feet below the railway bridge, a few more feet below the new road bridge.

As we were stuck in the traffic, I tried reaching out to my girlfriend, Rhea, who gave me the grim news- she was stuck in the Ghatkopar bound service of the Metro, somewhere between Versova and D.N. Nagar stations on the elevated Orange Line, surrounded by water all around. The electrical systems and the computers in the train had failed and there was no way the jammed doors would open too. There was no option but to wait, forever. As we tuned in the radio, all the FM stations, still up and running using whatever resources they had, giving a yeoman service to the city like they had done in the past during 26 July 2005 floods and 26/11/2008 terror attacks, had the same series of bad news- the bridge carrying metro tracks over the Western Express Highway had collapsed on the highway flyover, which in turn collapsed to the ground, killing hundreds of stranded passengers, on the metro as well as on the roads; a huge tidal wave had lashed into movie star Shahrukh Khan's bungalow- Mannat at Bandstand, killing everyone, including the star; Shreepathi Arcade, once India's tallest building was now a pile of rubble on the Tardeo ground, superstar of the previous century Amitabh Bachchan had died of suffocation in his residence after a 10 floor building fell straight on his bungalow. There was destruction everywhere.

After an hour, we somehow managed to crawl, alongwith six lanes of other traffic, across the 2-km Vashi Creek Bridge even as water level continued to rise and the sea turned violent. In this scenario, it was pointless to take the Palm Beach Road, which would have been flooded by now for sure. We drove ahead to CBD Belapur where army personnel directed us, like everyone else, to abandon the vehicles and climb up the Parsik hill following strict instructions from soldiers positioned all along the route. By now it was beyond dusk and when I reached the top of the hill, all I could see to the west was darkness, all I could hear around me were screams and wails of stranded residents. The night was long, and spent without food or water. When the sun rose next morning over the eastern horizon, what I saw to the west was impossible to believe- the sprawling metropolis that lied beyond the creek was nowhere to be seen. All that could be seen was water, extending to the horizon, with the hill once protecting BARC now rising like an island in the middle of nowhere. That was it, The End. The Apocalypse we always feared. The date- December 21, 2012.

Life Beckons Outside VJTI

Genre: College Life

My dear friends from the Class of 2010,

I hope tonight was a good night. As you look ahead after Nirop, the big bad world beckons. For four years, VJTI has given you some of the best experiences of your life- working on prehistoric machines in lab, spending more money at Aarti and Chandan than you do on yourself, making sixty handwritten replicas of assignments and submitting them for safekeeping. Now it is time for you to give back to VJTI.

Contribute towards the well-being of those who served you for four years. Take the Director's Assistant for jogging along the bylanes leading upto Five Gardens. Be brave and be prepared to face adversities. The residents of Parsi Colony will shout, scream at and abuse you for your act that damaged the roads. Do not pay attention.

Appreciate the hard work put in by the non-teaching staff. Buy 100 I-cards and gift them to the watchman at Main Gate so that he can relax from his routine shouting of "I-card kuthe aahe???"

Support education for all. Purchase books and necessary stationery for the most enthusiastic student on campus- The White Dog of VJTI who sincerely attends every lecture, year after year, leading the way in our dream of seeing 100% literacy in India.

The world is yours, go achieve your dreams!

A Tale of Two Cities

Genre: Travel

Christmas holidays took me to the destination I was dying to visit – New York City and having lived for 22 years in Mumbai, the first thing that came to my mind on seeing New York was - “Wow! This city is so much like Mumbai!”. Apart from the geographical similarity of both megacities being on long narrow islands and having huge natural harbors, New York and Mumbai are like identical twin cities in many aspects.

As any Mumbaikar would testify, the best and the fastest way to travel across Mumbai is by the local trains, similarly the most convenient way to traverse across New York is the Subway. The gigantic network lets you travel virtually anywhere taking the ‘A’ train, ‘B’ train, ‘C’ train…all the way upto ‘W’ train and ‘1’ train, ‘2’ train right upto ‘7’ train. This can baffle first-timers, but not a Mumbaikar who has spent years deciphering A, B, Ba, Bo, Bl, Bs, By, C, D, G, etc on Mumbai’s suburban train network. Like Mumbai’s suburban stations, New York’s Subway stations are old, dirty, littered with trash; trains are crowded, hardly state-of-the-art but very frequent, dependable and run throughout the day, much like the Mumbai locals. Not just this, below Broadway in Manhattan run four tracks of Subway – two for Local services and two for Express, like Mumbai’s Slow and Fast lines.

Out of the Subway, the city of New York resembles Mumbai in many more ways. A drive on Broadway between Midtown Manhattan and Downtown Manhattan gives a feel of driving on Colaba Causeway with scores of shops selling everything from clothes to jewelry and the sidewalks filled with tourists exploring the area on foot. Enter Grand Central Terminal and it feels like Mumbai's equally grand VT station. Midtown Manhattan is even more Mumbai-like with street food sellers at every corner selling hot dogs to Falafels (a New York specialty) to Chicken Rice at (relatively) affordable rates and hawkers occupying walking space on footpaths selling ladies purses, tshirts, junk jewelry and accessories at throwaway prices. Reminds of Linking Road, ain’t it?

Just like how the townships of Mira Road, Thane or Navi Mumbai developed beyond the boundaries of Mumbai’s island city providing affordable housing to working classes, New York city extends far beyond the well-known island of Manhattan into the boroughs of Queens and Brooklyn and one look at the area reveals the similarity with Mumbai’s extended suburbs. Taking a ferry from the southern tip of Manhattan to Staten Island across the New York harbor offers spectacular view of Downtown Manhattan and I couldn’t help but relate it to similar experience back in Mumbai when one takes the ferry from Gateway of India to Elephanta Island.

Extending far beyond these physical similarities, is the similarity in the way of life in the two megecities – hectic, fast-paced, where everyone is always on the run and there is never a dull moment. Truly, these are the Cities That Never Sleep!

They Don't Believe!

Genre : India

After numerous “my city vs your city” comparison talks in the last two months with students from all over India (including many who have never been to Mumbai), I find it hard to believe that they don’t believe some common facts about Mumbai:

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, auto-rickshaw drivers actually charge by the meter and not in multiples of 10 (Their city : “50 lagega…chalo 40 de dena!”)

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, you cannot evade traffic cop by bragging about your family (Their city : “Jaanta hai mera baap kaun hai?”)

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, local trains have a First and Second Class and all passengers strictly follow the distinction (Their city: “Ghus jaane ka na kidhar bhi…kaun dekhta hai”)

They don't believe that in Mumbai, male passengers never travel in coaches in trains marked as 'Ladies' (Their city: "Voh sab toh likha rehta hai. Padhta kaun hai". See Proof in photo.)

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, if you are caught travelling in First Class with a Second Class ticket, you will always be charged a fine of Rs 250 (Their city: “TC ko Rs 20 chai-paani de deneka. Baat khatam”)

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, city bus drivers actually follow road rules. (Their city : “Jahaan passenger dekha, vahaan road ke beech me bus khada kar denge”)

They don’t believe that in Mumbai you have to stop at all traffic signals and follow all road signs. (Their city : “Itna sab dekhte baithta toh paagal ho jaata”)

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, you can hail a taxi just like an auto-rickshaw and pay by the meter reading. (Their city : “Taxi ka fixed rate lagega. Rs 200 se kam kuch nahi”)

They don't believe that in Mumbai, you have to always wear a helmet while driving a two-wheeler (Their city: "Koi nahi pehenta. Police wala kitne logo ko pakdega?")

They don’t believe that in Mumbai, you can get everything from Pav Bhaji and Vada Pao to Pizza and Noodles on the roadside carts (Their city : “Pav Bhaji aur Pizza koi road pe thode hi bechta hai!”)

I always knew Mumbai was well-behaved, organized and different from other cities of India, but didn’t know the difference was so stark!

Proud to be a Mumbaikar!

PS : The above facts have been compiled from subjects coming from Delhi, Chennai, Kolkata, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Vadodara. Discerning reader should be able to distinguish comments by cities.

My apologies to readers who do not understand Hindi. Translating the comments into English would kill the fun!

Maro Saalo!

Genre: Mumbai

Visualize this-

A middle-aged man jumps off Platform 3 at Malad, wanting to cross over to Platform 4. He sees a Virar bound Fast local approaching far away on Line 3. He misjudges the speed of the train. The train hits him at nearly 100kmph. A black chappal is seen flying in the air. When the entire train has passed, all that is left is a lump of flesh and torn clothes drenched in blood. Within seconds, crows gather over it and start tearing off pieces of flesh...

I am sorry if you found this description too gory. However, it seems thousands of Mumbaikars do not mind dying this way. After all inspite of repeated warnings, education campagins, barricades, fines, even prosecutions, they remain nonchalant and adamant. It might come as a shock to you that while a total of 1200 soldiers were killed in the three wars India fought with Pakistan, almost three times that number- a staggering 3500 people die on Mumbai's railway tracks every single year, and yet nobody seems to care! The railways are not to blame here- WR and CR have both done all that they could to stop people from crossing tracks- warning boards have been put up at all platforms dissuading people from crossing tracks. WR went one step ahead and came up with a jingle which became an instant hit ("Rail Ki Patri... Paar Na Kare") but the irony is that the very passengers who hum this jingle standing on the platforms, jump the tracks the very next moment! Probably realizing the popular Hindi idiom 'Laato ke Bhoot Baaton se nahi maante', both WR and CR even started an intensive anti-trespassing drive and hundreds of track-crossers even went to jail for 3 to 7 days. But even this doesn't seem to deter most of the idiots. The heights of stupidity was reached at Jogeshwari yesterday when a mob went to the Station Master's office demanding that the barricade put up to prevent track crossing be removed because they find climbing the bridge "too tiring"!

This is not an isolated case. Passengers all over Mumbai have come up with the most innovative (and really really stupid) excuses to justify their idiotic act- from the most popular "Come on, I am not blind. I see properly and cross the tracks" and "I am too tired/late/bored to climb the bridge" to the unusual ones like "The bridge has been built in very unusual way and there are too many steps" and "My Rs 2 coin fell down so I am crossing the tracks".

To all these morons, I ask just one question- is saving two minutes orsaving the effort of climbing a few flight of stairs more important than your life? Have you ever imagined what your mom will go through when she comes to know that her son/daughter who had gone to college in the morning is now lying in a morgue in three-four chopped pieces? Have you ever given a thought to what your wife will go through when she comes to know that her husband for whom she was so eagerly waiting all evening is now just a lump of flesh whom she wouldn't be able to recognise? Ever wondered what will be the reaction of your children when they come to know that they will never even get to see the face of their mom/dad who had gone to work in the morning?

If inspite of all this, you justify your track-crossing act, I have only one thing to say- MARO SAALO! GO TO HELL! That's what you deserve!

"PLEASE DO NOT CROSS THE RAILWAY TRACKS.
YOU HAVE ONLY ONE LIFE. VALUE IT."

PS: See THIS video if you haven't seen it so far.

C 08:08 12 F

Genre: Mumbai

C 08:08 12 F

This glowing sign greets me every morning as I enter the crowded precincts of Malad station. As I make my way to Platform 4 crawling in a sea of humanity on the Foot-Over Bridge, the Firozpur "Bullock Cart" Express invariably passes from below. Making my way through the hordes of office-going ladies occupying the front end of the platform, I reach my pre-designated place. Between the two pillars painted red-and-yellow signifying the First Class coach, there is a point where the digits "74" are marked on the track (I don't know why). This is the exact position that I have assigned myself. The indicator shows it is still five minutes to go. Slowly the crowd keeps on building and all around me I can see familiar faces turning up, all sincerely occupying the same position everyday. Suddenly someone shouts- "Peeche ho jaao!" (Move back!). With a ear-deafening hoot of horn, a Virar-Churchgate Fast local speeds past at merely two feet from where I am standing at the edge of the platform, the hooligans hanging at the door screaming like mad. On the opposite platform, a gentleman popularly known as "Signal Kaka" keeps a lookout for the incoming train. The moment he spots it, he jumps across to our side, thereby signaling the arrival to the hundreds of others waiting eagerly. Suddenly there is frenzy all over the platform. The ones standing behind put an open question that anyone standing in the first row is free to answer- "Naya hai ki juna?" (Is it the new one or old one?). The answer will decide today's strategy. As the train slowly pulls into the platform, the "experts" standing in the first row signal with their hands to the motorman if he is pulling in too slow, too fast or just right. Finally, as the first door of the First Class coach comes near, I blindly jump in alongwith dozens of others, everyone pushing each other into the coach. Instinctively I turn left and deposit myself somewhere in the centre of the long seat meant for eight passengers. Within a few seconds, one after the other, men of all sizes come charging in, completely filling up the entire place. The unlucky ones who do not get a seat are now assigned the job of neatly arranging everyone's bags onto the Luggage Rack above. However, the most unlucky ones are the "oversmart" passengers who board the train from Kandivali yard itself hoping to get a good seat- all of them are first politely asked to vacate the seats, failing which, subjected to choicest abuses, followed by a good thrashing and eventually pushed out of the coach!

As the train picks up speed, the eclectic mix of co-passengers which includes businessmen, traders, stock-brokers, lawyers, doctors (myself being the only student in the "gang") forget their professional duties for an hour and let loose the kid inside them- joking, fighting, pulling each other's legs and once a week even throwing in a treat of delicacies ranging from samosa to jalebi, distributed free to all passengers in the vicinity - making the journey in the super-dense packed crowd a lot more tolerable. As Bandra approaches, following the unwritten rule in existence since years, everyone who had "caught" a seat from Malad gives the seat to the ones standing earlier thereby ensuring everyone gets to sit for atleast half the journey. Finally, at Dadar, I get off alongwith a majority of the crowd in the coach as the train speeds off towards Churchgate.

This has been my daily routine for the past four years. It sounds mechanical, it is executed to clockwork perfection every day yet there is a hidden emotion, a feeling of belongingness, an attachment behind this exercise that makes me teary-eyed as I get off at Dadar today for THE LAST TIME from the 08:08 am Malad-Churchgate 12-Coach Fast.

Light at the End of Tunnel

Genre: Travel

I get into an elevator that takes me to a huge concourse below. I get my token and swipe it against the sensor. The gate opens and allows me in. I take the escalator further down. Once there, within a minute, a four-coach train quietly enters from one of the tunnels and comes to a smooth halt. The automatic glass doors open and I enter the air-conditioned coach. Within half a minute, the doors close and we speed off into the darkness of the tunnel.

Seems straight from a sci-fi Hollywood movie? It is not. Welcome to Delhi Metro!

Clean, convenient, cheap, classy- just some of the adjectives that can describe this modern day wonder that has totally changed the way Delhi travels. And how! Ask any old-time Delhi-ite how much time, money and effort would it take a tourist new to the city to go from Akshardham near Indraprastha to Chandni Chowk at the other end of the city in the evening hours and he would be flooded with images of rickshaw-drivers trying to fish out exorbitant fares, shabby Blueline buses prowling across the streets like roadside monsters, red-light wielding neta-log holding the traffic to ransom at will, bumper-to-bumper traffic spewing out noxious fumes and finally he would just suggest that the tourist gives up this plan and go somewhere else. But not anymore. This is what I did- board the Metro from Indraprastha, cruise over Pragati Maidan on the elevated tracks, alight at Rajiv Chowk underground, take the connecting service headed to Vishwavidyalaya from another Metro line running right below the earlier one and intersecting it, alight at Chandni Chowk station, take the escalator up and bingo! I was right in the middle of the bustling bazaar in 20 minutes flat! That too in air-conditioned comfort for a meagre Rs 17!

Delhi Metro has not only made travelling easier but also brought about a paradigm shift in the general behaviour of the travelling junta. At Rajiv Chowk (which is nothing but the famous Connaught Place renamed to satisfy some political bigwigs) station, I found dozens of passengers standing calmly in queues in front of markings on the platform showing the location of every door of every coach of the Metro train, waiting for their turn to board after the alighting passengers have made their way out. A bigger pleasant shock awaited at Chandni Chowk where no less than five hundred office-goers were waiting in a single serpentine queue extending from the underground concourse, up the stairs, right upto road level, for their turn to swipe their Smart Cards and enter the Metro. No line-breaking, no shouting, no nagging!

These scenes brought out an interesting question- can this happen in Mumbai? And my answer is- Highly unlikely! There are reasons why I feel so-

Firstly the amount of crowds that Mumbai Metro will have to deal with (the day it comes into existence) is far more and densely concentrated compared to Delhi. While Delhi is spread out in all directions and as a result the population is spread out, Mumbai is a narrow strip of land with all businesses tucked away down south. As a result, almost the entire traffic will be jostling on the all-important north-south corridor virtually choking up Churchgate and CST Metro stations, if ever they are made that is. Also worth noting is the fact that Mumbai is a city that never sleeps. So while at Chawri Bazar, I found my Metro train stopping with not a single passenger alighting and boarding at 9:45pm, I do not see this happening at ANY Mumbai Metro station at any time of the day!

The second (probably amusing to outsiders) reason that may be detrimental to Mumbai Metro emulating the Delhi model is the fact that Mumbaikars are born restless. They are used to jumping into trains even before it can stop, grabbing seats in seconds and jumping off the locals at their destinations the moment the train enters the platform. In fact, I myself got frustrated on my first Metro journey when the train came to a halt at New Delhi Metro station and for five seconds the doors did not open, even wondering "Why is the bloody door not opening?" only to realise that this is the norm on the Metro!

A third, and possibly trivial reason why Mumbai Metro may never reach the standards set by Delhi Metro is the fact that while Delhi Metro runs on state-of-the-art trains from Bombardier, Germany, Mumbai Metro is to run with cheap Made in China coaches. The notoriety of both- Chinese products and Reliance makes me skeptical, though I would love to see Ambanibhai proving me wrong!

It is said that strict policing on Delhi Metro has brought about this remarkable change in passenger behaviour there. I so much hope the same happens in Mumbai too, though it seems too much to ask for. But there is hope. I am banking on only one factor- If junglee Delhi can do it, why can't my Mumbai?
_______________________________________________________________________________

PS: The photos (from Top to Bottom) show 1) Underground concourse of New Delhi Metro Station, 2) A Metro train going towards Central Secretariat on the 'Red Line' enters New Delhi, 3) Interiors of a Delhi Metro train running from Indraprastha to Dwarka on the 'Blue Line', 4) A 'Yellow Line' train speeds off from Chandni Chowk station.

Maharashtra Government cha Maths

Genre: Blabber

Maharashtra Government seems to be using a number system that is totally unfathomable to common citizens like us. See this two examples-

1) On Thursday, the central government dispatched 80 NSG Commandos to Mumbai to fight the terrorists followed by another batch of 90 Commandos. When Maharashtra CM was asked how many Commandos were pressed into service, his reply- 350.

So, in Maharashtra Government Number System,
80 + 90 = 350

2) On Sunday, Mumbai Fire Brigade Chief declared that 160 dead bodies were recovered from Taj, 60 from CST station and 10 from Leopold Cafe. Even after this, in the press conference, Maharashtra CM and his Deputy stressed repeatedly that the total number of casualties in the Mumbai attacks is 172.

So, in Maharashtra Government Number System,
160 + 60 + 10 = 172

Earlier I used to doubt our neta log are illiterate, now I am sure!