Mumbai Meri Jaan

By Saturday night, the thought had struck me hard that I’d have a chance to hit the road to India’s financial Mecca, the land of Bollywood-Mumbai, the erstwhile Bombay(this name stays my fav). The thought lingered in my subconscious mind till late when my eyes closed with glimpses of the biggest metro in India.

Tring Tring..started buzzing my Moto. The goddamn alarm! By 7, pulled myself up from under the rugs and got on the fast track yelling out “Good Morrrrnnnniiiing Mumbaaai”. Kicked Shailz(Shailendra Ojha, my BLP roommate-the acclaimed BACKUP BOM aka CBM of E-Sangli Branch VITA- sounds more like bournVITA) off the bed and tagged him along my quest to the unknown land. To give you a quick insight into where the bloody hell I am currently, lemme give you a brief. The ILC-ICICI Learning Centre based at Khandala, Pune is where I’m stationed. Built by the roadside, you could have absolute no clue what address the place would hold. The only landmark would be 2 flyovers of 4-lane width running parallel above this old Pune-Mumbai Highway on either side. The city, ok the so-claimed city, Khandala, would be with a radius of just 4-5km with the most renowned Mumbai-Pune expressway curving its way across the hills through scenic beauty being the pull to this place. Climate is awesome, typically controlled like Mysore, being a hill station. But got to say, the place sucks when it comes to finding proper civilization with a bit of advanced mode of living or a plain internet facility. They say this is a land of honeymooners and holidayers-which I did discover where the place pulled in people from both the ends-Pune and Mumbai alike who wanted to take a breath away from the mad rush in their life in the concrete wildlife.

From Khandala, Lonavala is just a 10min auto-drive to the railway station. Planned on reaching our destination via train only to know train frequencies have a gap of 90mins between consecutive trains and we missed the earlier one. Just as the Reliance connect ad goes.. we define impatience. BUS-yet another mass transport option was left and we ran to the bus stand quarter of a km from Lonavala station. The sight of the buses was disgusting when I felt really proud of our KSRTC buses which gave a royale feel to travel. Rusted exteriors covered in dirt, not having seen even a drop of water or rain in ages, stinking interiors, torn seats was just about enough for me to start to have the thought- would I ever survive the ride. Luckily, one of the bystanders approached us out of the blue asking would you love to have a cab ride to Mumbai at half the price in an Innova. Cool! @150bucks voila we got a chauffeur-driven Air Conditioned drive to Mumbai.

The drive was ecstatic. Twists and turns, through the 6-lane expressway did set the pulse raising making me desperate to get behind the wheels. The exhilarating speeds of cars that zipped by was enough and more to get my blood boiling. The road was just beautiful winding its way round the hill. Paved with rubber and tar mix, through the tunnels it flowed smoothly. What bugged me were the toll gates which slowed us down. Half way down the journey I could see the concrete wilderness. Flats, residential complexes/villas, malls, shopping complexes, commercial outlets you name any brick and mortar structure the place has got it. The wilderness never seemed to end towering to heights never seen before and spreading across boundaries unknown. The structures stood tall, dark and haunting. The sight was frightening with the thought how could anyone survive crammed into 4walls of concrete with a common roof with nothing around which breathes out O2. Broken panes, worn out paint, cracked walls, clothes hanging out of balconies were just another sight with all the dark structures. The dead silence and my frightening thoughts were broken with the chauffeur’s query as to where I wanted to get down. Even before we could say anything he offered to drop us at Daddar. He never left us with any options. I just turned back and looked at Shailz who said,”Daddar is fine”. He then inquired on how to get to “Gateway”. The only Gateway that struck me was the India Gate at Delhi. Our co-passengers who shared the same cab came up with suggestions on common transports to utilize-train and then the bus. As we passed through each signage-Vashi, Thane, Andheri, my heart raced with the thoughts on how big the city was. A Slumdog Millionaire would have catapulted the city to dizzying fame with even the stink of the slums breathing in parfum of popularity. But it is not the end. There was much more to this place than the slumdogs and the millionaires. Each signboard with the Bollywood heart throbs and beauties left me yearning to see a SRK or a Katrina in the next corner or zipping by their miraculous machines. From beneath a flyover to a drop by the side of yet another flyover, there I was in Daddar.

From here, where and how to go was the billion dollar question. Then Shailz popped in the question-“Do you know anyone in Mumbai?”. Yeah I do! Was I desperate to call her! Arey, who else other than BG, CEO of ICICI. The ring went twice; no response. But, relentlessly I tried and there she picked. Sigh of relief. At the first go, I asked her how to get to Gateway from Daddar. She banged my thrill down by a stinker replying “Arey, mein Mumbai mein nahi huun! “. “Arey kisne puucha tere barein mein, bol kaise jaana hai”; I replied as if I took it in good spirit. She told me to catch a train from Daddar to Churchgate and then take a taxi ride. There ends my guide’s role.”Hmm, teek hai, ab aur kya baat karein! Chodd de”..was the thought! You missed your privilege mam was my take! Hence na Ms.Mahajan(jo abhi Mrs. hai) ko mil paya, na Ms.Gupta ko! The chance of meeting the spice and flavour of Mumbai had gone dead. Ab kya bacha hai dekhne..MUMBAI here I come!

Daddar railway station was just a few blocks down the lane, took tickets to Churchgate and waited for the train. Platform 2 was where we were directed to. The gruelling heat made us melt like butter on hot pan. One hour was more of ride through a museum observing decade old structures with mad rush moving in and out of platform with each passing by train which unfortunately was stopping at the platform behind us quite frequently. And there stood two dumbheads getting frustrated with the fact that all the bloody trains were moving in on our opposite platform while we stood ducks waiting for ours. One hour of cribbing and velapan on the platform made us realise from a bystander that we are on the wrong platform and needed to move our ass up the stairway to some platform on the opposite end. Discovering this fact that there were two sets of platforms on north-South ends and our 1hour wait that went to the docks added to my frustration. Grabbing with what is left over with our dehydrated bodies we ran over to the opposite end. Within 2 minutes there came trains zipping by. Local trains with open exits flew by with men and women hanging on to bits of metal they could lay their fingers on like bats hanging down on twigs. Humans flew out of them like bees out of the nest. Dhakka/the push principle kept the flow going. The principle is very simple. The one who wants to go in just needs to stay at the entrance where all gather. Once the outflow ends, you get the PUSH which pulls you inside the coach irrespective of you make an attempt or not. The ones who stood by the entrance were pushed in as if it was an automated process. Same is applicable for one’s at the exit too. Guess this is a working principle for one and all in Mumbai. Just make your stand firm and you will move places.

Thanks to God that our station was the last one that we could take a seat and relax. Even travelling in the open train was a feeling inside of a microwave oven. I was literally taking a dip in a pool of sweat. Reached Central, Grant Road, Marine Lines and then came Churchgate. It was like the end of the city, the dead end to which trains move in and then begin to move out. The station invoked thoughts of Slumdog millionaire Jai Ho dance where the entire sequence was shot in this station(I assume). We walked across the station seeking the grand EXIT. The sights of beautiful kudiyan kept my mind at bay saying to myself-atleast something is there which could entice me for another visit. Once we stepped out, we were in search of an underpass which could take us to the other side of the road. The underpass was buzzing with activity, filled with aroma of boiling oil frying fresh pakodas and bhajjis. The voice of the street vendors calling out for buying stuff from their stores filled the air once we reached midway of the underpass. The mad rush followed us wherever we went. We came out into the light to breathe fresh air facing a very tall structure which looked like a Roman Catholic church. My eyes pondered over the marvel with the beauty and size of its construction. The style was very much Jewish which concluded the thought that it was built by British in pre-Independence era. Next mission- catchin’ a taxi to Gateway.

One after the other taxis zipped by but none would turn up to go to Gateway. Why, was it so close by? Or a pathetic place in terms of traffic congestion? Kerala autowale se bhi zyaada bhaav khate ho? ..thoughts as usual zapped through my mind. Then came our hero riding in black n yellow shining armour. An old 1980 Fiat Padmini with the meter kept up front on the bonnet unlike in an auto placed at the back. “Bhai saab Gateway le chalo”. 20bucks in a cushioned royal travel gave it a superb feel. It was my first time experience to move around in a taxi on such a short run. But, looking around I felt the entire population moved around taxis getting sick and tired of driving themselves through the everyday clutter and spending a fortune on the fuel which burnt a hole in their pockets. No wonder why the bloody place has so much to claim when it comes to being the number-1 polluted metro in India. I love Delhi in this regard. The city runs on LPG/CNG. Ms.Dixit really knows how to run the state. From buses to autos and even domestic vehicles are all packed with a CNG converter. Even then, I wouldn’t call it a pollution free state, but fares well with the increasing per square km population in the metro. Wonder when the Millionaire state will grow. The car slowed down at a place fenced by police barricades. There were loads of people moving across the place talking varied languages and our driver indicated “nikal saale, pahunchgaya tera Gateway”. Ok! The indication was not that harsh.

The place where he left us, I couldn’t make head or tails out of where I was. On the left there were many stalls offering tourist packages taking you around Mumbai On the right I could catch glimpses of a tall structure which I could not make out through the trees which barred the view. As we made through the MAD rush once again, I saw the great archway which all called the great GATEWAY. It was beautiful. It had the inscription “This was constructed when Queen Elizabeth landed in India for the first time in ..(some date)”. Ya, history doesn’t sell well with me. The sight was amazing. Am I missing something here. A 90-degree turn to my right, left my eyes on a massive beauty of a structure which was SHOT DOWN to glory – the Taj, Mumbai. The notorious series of event that unfolded was terrifying which any native of Mumbai or anyone across India would ever want to recall. All cameras flashed against this magnanimous structure. All wanted a piece of the great MONUMENT(it did not have to survive any great royal battles or stay for decades. What it has gone through is more than enough to rightly name it a standing monument.) against their background to be a witness to the fame it acquired across the world. But now a sense of peace prevailed. People all around could feel it. The hundreds of pigeons that flew by and across the structure with just the noise of their wings beating in the air and the peaceful transition of motor in and out of the place made all feel that it was just another day in their lives. The attitude left a sense of respect in my heart for them. This population has seen much more than what a normal being could envisage.

Whereto from here? The question still pondered. That was when CBM suggested on getting on a boat to a new land. Guess since he has got ideas and I have none, I thought lets go for it. We walked back to the stalls and got ourselves 2tickets to a boat ride to Elephanta Caves. Boats boats and lots of them. Which one to board? Thats when we noticed a long queue moving out. Ah a 50-odd member long queue was already waiting to catch the boat. I was sucked off all my liquidity by now. Got ourselves 2bottles of water and thumbs up and slogged our time at the queue. The wait time was blessed with many a newly married womanhood attained folklore who jumped into the brandwagon of honeymooning at this sick place. Anyway, I hope I find better places to go once I get married. We were a fresh batch to board and got privilege front seats. One stunner which came by was discovering the fact that this bloody sea-route journey would last 1hour. The boat was docked for 20mins which frustrated me more and more since I was already feeling sick. The boat picked pace in about an hour. It was on cruise mode(ok u can assume the irony). The sea wind itself was warm which added to the discomfort. But as we reached the inner sea it was better. Huge iron structures drilling and digging into sea beds amazed me. The engineering that went behind them put many a thought to my mind. A million tonner and a billion dollar ship docked at mid-sea port made me look at it with boggled eyes. The sea reflected two tones-blue and greenish black. OIL-the culprit. A mother points it out to her daughter showing the difference in colours and that it floats on top being less dense. Was it knowledge? Truly yes! But not a sight to be eagerly shown on nature’s beauty. It would have sounded better in a Physics or Chemistry class. Cool breeze made casual passes in between and at times went dead too. But the fact that I had already put myself to the maximum strain for a day made me realise... -TIME TO SLEEP brother! A sweet short nap for 15mins was refreshing. With just ten more minutes to the great CRUISE, I could catch glimpses of land which all across was surrounded by nature. Where the hell did so much of green come into this corporate wilderness was the thought. The fact that this land was far separated by good amount of waterbed from the concrete jungle made access to this nature’s beauty beyond thought. The land looked beautiful like Lanka. A straight strip of land went out into the sea bed where we were left. The strip would be close to a km in length. Do I havta walk this across to reach there? I’m not going, take me back! I can’t slog more. Just then Shailz put in the word- “Chalo mini-train pakadte hain!”. Mini-train??

On the straight strip was a train track with a miniscule width to carry a small capacity of just 60people. 10bucks and they would get you there without moving a toe.2tickets and there we were waiting to catch another ride through life. But here too, the DHAKKA principle only worked. Man! This is turning out to be a chapter in my life i thought. 5mins and bingo we were there without walking a pace. Short n crisp journey like the ooty joy ride as kids I used to take. The entrance to the ancient caves showed steep steps up. How many? Didn’t bother to answer that question since I was dead tired and hungry leaving me just not any other thought than FOOD. Plunged myself into the very next chair I saw vacant in that stinky restaurant and ordered food. Oh boy! Did it suck! That made me recall the grand royale food our cooks at ILC used to feed us. May god bless them with long lives. Ek aur bottle dhandi paani... aur chal pade hum in our adventurous quest to expand traveller’s knowledge.

The climb was cool till about a few meters and carrying forward I got to feel the heat and the stress mounting on me. But this was an experience which I would never want to lose. That gave me the drive. My mom used to pull my leg asking what the hell did i do being in Delhi or 2yrs. I cant even claim to have seen the Taj Mahal or the Lal Quila from inside. Guess atleast this time I took a call and came by to witness India’s treasures. The steps were too steep and crammed that we needed to hunt spaces to put our feet in. 15mins and there we were-WELCOME TO ELEPHANTA CAVES. The caves were marvellous in its architecture and in the making of the sculptures out of single piece of stone, all carved out of the wall that forms the cave. There were many Shivling prathishtas around different sections of the cave. OK! I am getting bored of writing this archaeological crap! The only thing which enthused me otherwise was to find non-Indians (wouldn’t wanna classify with the nationality and hurt sentiments) clicking away pictures of monkeys on trees and rocks enjoying their good freedom scratching each other backs and feeding on anything that these so-called evolved apes dropped. Guess they were trying to trace their origins back to the Neolithic times studying them so close.They really were the stars of the show. One of them was so enthralled by their performance that he threw the entire packet of Lays at them. 20 bucks bit the dust with that. But the prehistoric man was smarter than the evolved ape. He stopped his performance, picked the bag, turned his back to the spectator and his sponsor, raised his tail and gave a full blow show of his pink ass as a mark of respect and ran off to his hiding among the trees. So much for the grateful gesture.

Yet another hour of journey left us at the mercy of time where loss of light and the fear of having to forsake our dinner made us run for shelter. Took our prime mode of transport-Taxi which took us to the station in minutes since I found traffic to be less(yet another thought which let my mind pondering). On our way back, I discovered the beautiful structure that first grabbed my attention in Mumbai-the catholic structure. It was the Mumbai High Court. The taxi dropped us at the point where we were picked. By 6 we reached Churchgate which by now was quite deserted since it was dusk and ours was the starting station. We were supposed to get down at central and catch the local train to Pune. Unfortunately, we were quite so relaxed that we forgot the initiation of DHAKKA principle and we got stuck up inside not getting down within the stipulated 2mins trains stop at stations. And hence it took us to our place of orgin-Daddar. The reservation center as anywhere and anytime had a staggered queue making me feel, the entire of Mumbai travel on trains. 67bucks of a local ticket to Lonavla he said. Pulled out the currency and asked him by what time. “6:05pm”, he said. A glance at my watch showed 6:05pm. “Where is the train?”,I asked. He said “Platform 1”. I ran down telling shailz the train is bound to leave now from platform 1. Just as I took the leap from the last but 4th step I saw the train just leave by. “Bhai saab yeh Pune local hai kya?? Haanji yehi hai”..Gone! Electric trains got great pickup you know. So catching a running train is quite not easy now. INR 67 down the drain.

Yet another option of mass transport-BUS. But this time Shailz was smart enough to propose a bigger better plan. He said just like we reached here there would be Volvos and taxis plying back to Pune and Lonavla which could drop us. Hence we walked a few miles across to the place where the Innova guy had dropped us and found a tours and travels stall with a Volvo getting loaded with baggages. “Can we get a ride to Lonavla”.”Haanji! 200bucks”. “Cool! Dho tickets de dijiye”. A second thought never went seeking alternate modes or negotiating rates. It was a Volvo bound to Hyderabad and we got dropped exactly at the sweet spot my bus dropped me while I travelled from Bangalore to Khandala.

By 10:30pm I was back at my bed with the memoirs of the great adventure trip I went on. It turned out to be quite a controversy in the training camp with many heart wanting to know why I made it Mumbai on such short notice without leaving a word. Was it a planned trip? What specifically did you have to do at Gateway? Why only one spot? Whom do you know at Mumbai to help you around? Aah! It would never end. The memoirs did etch a picture in my heart, placing feelings sandwiched between warm and cold, passionate and subtle. I cant live here. I cant work in this sheer madness. I cant move under the DHAKKA principle. I hated something about the place, but something still mystifies me drawing me back to the land of the slumdog millionaires. Would I return? Only destiny will tell !