Salaam Mumbai

When Mumbai burnt, the reactions were varied, but underlined by a common thread…of fear, and anxiety. I was relieved to know all my friends were safe, though “shaken”. A day later, another long-lost-and-recently-found friend of mine began to recount his experience and well, I thought it was a good post for my blog.

So today the post is his. He writes well (and sketches like a dream!) so here’s his story, in his words – compiled from our chat and mails…

Well... it is 11.30 pm and am just back from Jogeshwari where one of the train blasts occurred. A little bit of walking, more walking, bus, 3 bikes, train, bus and hooome. Yoo hooo. I love this place.

I was in Malad (You know Mumbai?). Malad is close to Jogeshwari where one of the blasts happened. Almost all the blasts happened in first class compartments. I saw one of them, with roof split open and side walls too given away.

The local train. Started off from somewhere...picked me up from Malad...screeched to slow halt somewhere near Jogeshwari. Unsuspecting jam packed compartments knew little...and remain immersed in their crosswords... And the message came. Shucks... do you know Marathi? I don’t know either. I didn’t know what he said… but it might have meant... signal na milne ke kaaran...rukaawat…errrr. Hope you got the message. I got the message. That train stopped - no signal, no journey.Everybody still immersed themselves in their train-journey-passions… with more intent.

And then suddenly...the fans went off. That is when people suspected something - that this is going to stay for a while. The Mumbai people consider the train as their life line. When they can’t afford to stay close to office, they go far…and far... and farther to get an accommodation, homely, and cheap. And a journey of 2 hours is written in the foreheads of 75% of Mumbayites. Jam packed. Well that is another story. The life in a local train. But you need to know the importance of local trains in a Mumbayite's life. And how they respond to a change in the train's schedule/frequency.

So… when the train in which they are traveling suddenly screeches to a halt, they don’t panic. It isn’t as much of a state of complacency or trust in the service. It could as well be something that has risen out of helplessness. But that was how it was, when the message came, and later when the lights went off. So many conflicting rumors started to come immediately.
- That the engine is defunct
- That there is some blast.
- That there is electronic signal error that is going to be rectified immediately. Et all.

But all rumors were set aside, when people from Mumbai side started walking towards Virar direction. And began speaking vividly about the blast.

Until then, I was very calm. Know why? I didn’t know Marathi. So I understood nothing. (Ignorance is a bliss right?) Now I decided...to jump. And off I walked to the next railway station. Or so I imagined would take me if I were to follow the railway tracks.

It was a spectacle. Not the sight of the people who walked in tandem...single mindedly. (They have all already accepted it as their fate. They don’t waste too many seconds in accepting the realities. Practical to the core.) But that wasn’t the spectacle. Everybody was punching at their cell phone keys to get to the near ones. Every single one. But soon, every cell was tucked back in, with reality accepted fast. And off they, we ...went.

The nearest railway station was Jogeshwari. And there lay the train...with its belly split wide open. And I could see the host of onlookers…curious, angry, helpful, duty-bound.I saw the firemen too. Blue, thick coats with glittery gold badges. Looked professional.Yes. We knew for sure. But I decided to jump when my instincts convinced me that the thing is real. Also the survival instincts in Mumbayites are high. And when they walked, I guess, my instincts were also resonating. So I too walked.

We are now standing in the midst of the mad crowd. The fazed crowd… which is sprayed by policemen, ambulance men, fire men... helpers, onlookers. I could describe the crowd, but it was ordinary. Just like any calamity crowd. But there was this. Within minutes of the calamity, there were volunteers. Good looking and well dressed men. Who took it to be their responsibility to guide people as to which way they could go.

You could find a plethora of options. But of which you know nothing of. All your options are meaningless unless you have any or all of the variables known. So when time is important, you calculate how much of it you have in front of you, and how much you can afford. And then the money you have to weigh that time factor. So time and money became the parameters. And then I just gulped the last suggestions… and jumped on to the Mahim bus that just slowed down. And there I sat for the next 4 hours in a bus that slipped back 3 feet for every 5 feet it moved.

I was stuck in Andheri for an hour or more. Many scenes flew past - people, incidents...until Mahim came. And then 3 pillion rides. Amidst continuous drizzle. And train from Byculla along the central lane that was still running. And then a bus home.

And by the way there were lots of people on the streets. Let’s call them Mumbayites. Mumbayites… who have a common character of resilience... Mumbayites who had a common experience of helplessness during last year's calamity... They were standing on the streets with make-shift stalls distributing water, biscuits to the people in the cars, buses. (Biscuits were thrust and thrown into people's hands in the buses, who were seemingly shy to accept them... or reluctant to accept the reality of the predicament.) People were standing with big banners requesting people to give lifts. Even old couples were seen distributing packaged drinking water...

Home... My room mate arrived a few minutes later visibly distraught and looked peeved why I wasn’t asking him about his story. Well, I think he was slightly abashed when he heard my story, which might have mole hilled his. As was mine when I heard my friends' the day after. Well this place is a story churner, and there is no end to it. If only if the ear is sensible, sweet. But alive. He he!

Mumbai never ceases to surprise, does it?
~RE

Totally pissed off...no posts today.
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No, I was backing Italy..and they WON!

~RE

Is that a Mal thing?

During the good-bye party to one of the team members last week, my colleague and I got talking about backwaters and Kerala, and how he had been to various places across the state. While on this, he made an interesting observation - that he didn't like the people of Kerala much because their sense of humour was weird - they seemed to find humour at the expense of others. Simply put - Mals' idea of a joke was making fun of others.
I found this very interesting. Probably because this had never struck me before. And this set me thinking - was it true? If he had noticed it, it probably was. Hmmm - but what makes a Mal so? Is it his inherent feeling that he is intellectually a few steps ahead of people around him? That he is not someone who'd laugh at goofy, slapstick stuff? Or was it just plain quirky sense of humour?
I'd like to believe the third. Because for one, I really do not believe that an average Mal finds humour thus. Being a Mal, I know quite a lot of fellow Malayalees who do not. I have a number of friends who are blessed with amazing wit, and on few occasions do they need to lean on another's shortcomings to make one laugh.
To think of it - is it just Mals who laugh at others? I think, given a chance, all are thus. How many of us do not laugh hearing a Sardarji joke? So aren't you insulting them? Aren't you laughing at their expense? The views are varied - I think that is more for the joke than for the fact that it is on a Sardar. Substitute the Sardar for any other guy and almost all the the jokes are just as funny.
Secondly, if they do laugh at others, more often than not, they laugh at themselves too. And probably they do not mind being laughed at just as well. The Namboodiri jokes or the 'Seethi haji' jokes are a few examples of how we can laugh at ourselves. More close to our times, look at all the jokes on Mals circulating on the internet these days. Take Lola kutty and "AAlecs" - it is too much to see them all these as insults.
Also doesn't every culture, every region have some characteristic that makes it detestable? If some people are nosy, quite a few are aggressive to the point of being dangerous. While some are highly prejudiced, some just do not let you be.
But well, isn't that what makes them what they are? And I'm sure every culture has its endearing qualities too. And both, I believe, are very subjective.
So in the end, probably it is a true but partial view that Mals have a sick sense of humour. You're sure they do? Then probably they are part of the nasty-Mals fraternity - just ignore them!

~RE.