Yeah hai Mumbai meri Jaan
Now, this will be my fourth year in Mumbai. It was only a few days after the big crisis of 26th July, when I first came to Mumbai with my elder brother. ‘The City’, for me was never beyond, Pune. From my town, Latur, I reached Mumbai; with the help of my elder brother, found accommodation and, here was to start my life without my parents, without my joint family back there; a completely independent life; here was I to decide my further path in life. On the first night, I fell asleep thinking how my journey shall be thrilling in this happening city; the so called, City of dreams, financial capital of India, city of Bollywood.
Now after three years, I can see the real life of the most of the people living over here. Life here is nothing but full of traveling. One day you come to this city for your career, in search of employment, for education, and you end up being a Mumbaikar. People come from every corner of the India, they struggle; struggle and more struggle which makes them find their permanent pie in the city. People travel for a couple of hours, all the way from the places like, Virar, Badlapur in overloaded trains; but they will travel, no matter how hectic it is; because, after all it's for the family they have set up during their time of struggle. After two years in a hostel, I moved in with my sister, who happened to be here for her higher studies. Here was my first encounter with actual daily traveling in local trains.
“Oh boy, he’s gone!” one commuter said.
“Why do they hurry?” another responded.
I eagerly asked them, “What happened?”
The few inches of distance between us in that overcrowded train, made me intrude their conversation, as I just sensed something has fallen down as the train arrived on Kanjur station. “Nothing muc!!,He hustled to get down even before train had haulted”
“Did they take him to the hospital?” I asked , but, it was an useless question as I also knew that train hardly waited for a few seconds to know what would happen later.
“Probably he is dead; Platforms are dangerous. If fallen on the tracks, there’s a chance of saving.” Within the few words he analyzed the death and forgot it talking about his office stuff to his colleague. I was terrified, speechless, and blank, thinking of what would have happened to that guy.
When someone young dies, it’s not just his death but it’s an end to his dreams, his parent’s hopes, his partner’s expectations and it affects a lot of people around him.
I didn’t know why that day was destined for me, but as soon as I got down at my destination, I saw a middle aged, badly bleeding woman being carried on a stretcher. I got to know later that she just fell off on the track because of the crowd trying to get into the train frantically. I couldn’t stop thinking of the guy and the face of the bleeding woman; life is very cheap here, I thought.
Tomorrow, I can be one of them if I would become so called Mumbaikar, if I stay here for my career, if I think about my permanent stay in this city. There’s no guarantee whether I’ll come back alive; this terrifying thought shook me for some time; But as a true Mumbaikar, I forgot the incident as early as possible. That’s the spirit of Mumbai which’s been appreciated in the entire world. No matter how many die every year, we won’t stop hanging on the footboard; we won’t stop sitting on the rooftops, we won’t stop clinging on to the train where danger sign is stenciled; that’s the spirit to live. Even within few hours of 7/11 blats, people traveled in trains, that’s the spirit; they showed world, nobody can kill our spirit, even bomb blasts can not stop us running, can not stop our lives; we are already dead inside, we leave our houses like brave Jawans on the border, with our lives in god's hand, that’s courage. I see many people, traveling the entire journey on foot boards of the train, with one leg inside, another leg almost outside, three fingers on the upper outer side of train and another hand holding on to a bar inside the train. Despite of the plenty pushes and explosive situations inside the train, they’ve enough confidence upon themselves that none of the insider’s thrust or the rush in the interiors will make them slip off their three fingers and consequently, their lives. Nobody has the time to think for all this; city is always on the run; it has to, there’s no escape!!
Every night, exhausted me, see myself, resting on the big varanda after my evening play, I see myself waiting for my dad coming from his office, playing with my mom’s sari while she cooks; pressing my granny’s legs; snuggling with my cousins; I sleep every night, dreaming to go back to those days. I will live that peaceful life, one day. One day I shall go back to my own town; be at peace.
