72 - ENGLISH VINGLISH, MARATHI SWARATHI, HINDI FINDI......

English is perhaps the only language that has an upper case and a lower case.  After a fullstop, a capital letter is used, and proper nouns too have a capital letter.  In Marathi, Hindi, Urdu, Gujarati, etc there is no need to use capitals. Also the pronunciation of every word is not too predictable.  Very often English words are pronounced incorrectly,  which is not the case with most other languages as the written word can be read as is.

 In India, most of the citizens are not familiar with English speaking and so they tend to translate from marathi or hindi, and then format the english sentence, which leads to hilarious sentences.  So if  the Hindi phrase of  'Aap kaiseh hai?'  gets translated as 'You how are?'

If you do not read good novels and classical stories,  then you are at risk to format incorrect sentences too.  Spellings also go for a toss.  I have been very puzzled after perusing certain items on a menu.  So there is  a "paper sandwich"  correct spelling should have been "pepper",  and the "chess sandwich" meaning a "cheese sandwich".    And these two misspellings were painted on the menu board of the Mumbai university at Kalina.

Everyday I pass the Aditya Birla school lane at Tardeo and feel chagrined to read the signboard that they have displayed at the entrance of the lane leading towards their school.  It reads, 'School children alighting and get off.'  In Pune there is a bench on MG Road which has this painted on it 'siniour citizen bench'.  In a Virar local,. the neon light message reads 'Emergency number of ladies passengers.............'.  One Union Bank branch has this message displayed, 'Account will be freeze in case of non submission of KYC'.

And I fail to understand why the BMC has painted an English phrase in the Hindi script on its garbage trucks,  'clean up'?  Also, the hindi and marathi words for 'please',   'sorry'  and 'thank you' are almost redundant, and everyone uses the english options, even when conversing in a colloquial format or in any local language like gujarati, marathi and hindi.

Very often, the speaker makes a mistake, and the listeners are unaware of its incorrectness, so 'all is well'.

39 - GENTS COMPARTMENT

On my return trip from the suburb of Virar, it was 9.30pm and so I travelled in the gents' compartment with my son, since it is just crowded enough to be seated, at this time.  Also it makes no sense getting into a ladies' only compartment so late, and the gents' compartments are a safer bet, as they are more populated and one is not caught alone and unsafe.

I had to engage my mind in some sort of activity, so as not to nod off in the all male passenger bogie, which would be inappropriate for a lady to do.  I undertook a survey of sorts of everything that was around me.  The first thing I decided was that I would list the stations that passed, as I am not too familiar with the sequence, having spent my childhood in Pune.  So starting from Virar, Nallasopara, Vasai, Dahisar, Borivli,  Andheri, Bandra, Dadar,Mumbai Central, and then my stop, Grant Road.  Having boarded a fast train, the journey lasted approximately 50 minutes.  During that time, my survey of various statistics were logged by me.  Since there was nothing to watch outside the moving train, as it was very dark, I observed the sights within. 

And of course, the sounds too.  The regular announcements of the approaching stations, with a warning in Hindi, Marathi and English, not to lean out of the open doors, and not to hang out, which so many passengers were indulging in, anyway,  and also the jingle that was repeated exactly 16 times during the span of my journey.  "Swaad sugandh ka raja, badshah banayeh badhiyah khaana,badshah masala, badshah rajwadi garam masala, pau bhaji, panipuri, chaat ka masala, badshah masala,  biryani, pullav, cholle ka masala, badshah masala."  It almost mesmerised my senses into whetting an appetite.

Intermittently, my audio senses were bombarded with some passenger behind me indulging in candy crush on their mobile.  Looking around, I made a survey of how many of the 26 seated passengers within my view, were using mobiles, either typing messages, scrolling or wearing headphones and listening to songs.  Fourteen of them were busy with mobiles, even  standees, were viewing their mobiles in one hand and supporting themselves with the other hand holding the overhanging handholds.  Watching their hands, I noticed that 6 males were wearing finger rings, and one of them was wearing a ring in every finger, hmmmmm.  So I was then assessing the accessories that they were sporting on their wrists.  Ten were wearing very large watches,  five were wearing fancy bracelets, one had almost 6 shiny beaded rakhees on one wrist, two men had thick kadas, and nine males had orange strings tied on one wrist. 

Watching the seated men was an eyeopener as to how males behave even in public.  Two of them were very engrossed in digging their noses, obnoxiously, and one fellow was busy massaging tobacco in the palm of one hand, with the thumb of the other, and then carefully pinching it all up and pressing the lethal mixture into the lower part of his mouth.  One old man was reading what was some sort of hindu prayer book.  Two of them were chatting loudly.

The colour of the passengers shirts was very depresssing.  Three were wearing black shirts, nine males had nondescript checked or lined shirts.  Five were wearing some sort of yellowish shirts,  blue and purple shades were eight of them, only my son was wearing a smart orange T shirt with a black jacket.  Hmmmmm.  Watching their shirts, I noticed that only three had used a pen as a style statement, adorning their shirt pocket.  Only three were clean shaven, one was a very unruly bearded man, six had trimmed beards, and all the rest sported moustachios.  Fifteen of the 26 that I was observing, had backpack bags, one had a large blue plastic bag and five of them were carrying their belongings in plastic bags. 

Comparing the female travellers, I have noticed that they tend to snack a lot.  They also nod off even while standing and travelling, and the mobile is of course an indispensable accessory for all travellers, irrespective of their gender.  But when travelling in a ladies' compartment, colourful outfits, pretty earrings and necklaces, and nailpaint, stylish bags and hairstyles are more interesting to observe.  And of course the conversations are also very engaging.  Besides, the babies and children add an extra angle of interest to me as an observer.  Often there are hawkers too, selling earrings, toys, bindis, fruits etc,  and so travel time seems to fly, although one is pressed and pushed among a melee of screeching females, at every stop.  

38 - THE QUEEN OF THE SUBURBS

Today, I had to travel by the local train upto Virar for some official work.  I only travel by the local train if I have to go very far, very fast, as compared to slow bus travel.  Since I seldom travel by the local train,  the experiences and scenes flash into my senses and get analyzed into statistics.

Although it was a Saturday, being a half day for most office goers and an off day for many academic institutes,  the train was very crowded.  But today, in the crowded ladies' compartment, a good samaritan actually offered me a seat for some time and stood all that while, and then even advised me as to the best place to stand, in order to avoid the onslaught of the incoming crowds that kept boarding the train upto Nallasopara.  It made me so happy to have this empathetic lady share her seating time for a while.

The bad memory was when the train approached Bandra,  the litter along the boundaries of the tracks was disgusting and demoralising and smelly.  An assault on the senses.   How can human beings live in that filth?  The entire length of the track, almost one kilometer before Bandra station, is lined with slums and beyond their ramshackle abodes are piles and piles of plastic, paper, thermocole, rags, and rotting vegetable waste.  Rats, flies and God knows what other pests are breeding in that area.   Please please, Bandra residents,  make the approach to your suburb clean and green.  I beseech to all its famous and rich residents, the Bollywood big shots etc, all visitors need to feel a sense of the 'Queen of the suburbs',  and you should make an effort to live upto its name.  Mr Shahrukh Khan, you have recorded a TV ad about 'swachch bharat',  but you only care for your bungalow and your home in Dubai,  you must GIVE towards improving the suburb that has brought you fame,  but it only has the shame of being a filthy public space mostly.

And then when Vasai was announced on the intercom system in the train,  the nose and eyes had another stinky onslaught from a sewage oulet or a large 'nalla'.   The only saving grace was that, the monsoons have turned the open areas into lush green growth.  So wherever we can view the greenery through the moving train, it is so beautiful and clean.

The local trains are the 'lifeline' of Mumbai but all along the tracks are 'deathlines' of filth, poverty, garbage and open air toilets.  Dear Salman Khan, you sent tankers of water to the drought-affected districts of Marathwada, yet you fail to notice the poverty and squallor of the poor in your very own neighbourhood?  I feel that 'Being Human' does not mean that Mumbai only gets the expensive stores with that logo, but that you do the humanitarian work for Mumbaikars too, please.  Do not forget that it is this city that has brought you your name, fame and where you have grown up.  You could give back by maybe, building good homes for the railway line squatters.   It will also be a more lasting contribution towards society, than the water donation that you had undertaken in 2013 to the drought hit Beed district.

October the second has been declared as THE cleanliness drive day for all Bharat,  and there will be lots of photo ops by politicians and richie riches like MsNeeta Ambani and her ilk.  But nothing really really effective at all.  Nothing that would deplete their pockets,  only silly whitewashed news stories, with brooms and buckets and expensive gloves, for maybe 5 to 10 minutes, just as long as it takes the cameras to flash.  If only each celebrity or large company, would adopt the wards, then it would lead to concrete progress towards cleanliness.  Mr.Amitabh Bachchan, you could easily adopt B ward, and it could be the 'Big B' B ward and compete with the Salman Khan A ward etc.  And the great Neeta Ambani C ward, and the Katrina Kaif D ward.  Not forgetting a E ward takeover by the great Kapil Sharma,  he will of course then be forgiven all the 'gapla' he did at his Versova flat.  And the likes of Anil Kapoor, who only want to rake in the moolah and the name and fame without any give back to society.  You have launched your daughter and now your son,  pray please do spend on beautifying the city that adores your every action and relative.  Come on people, Gandhiji is still revered all over the world, you could be revered at least in your 'karmbhoomi'.

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35 - MUMBAI LOCAL-LIFELINE?

It is commonly referred to as the 'lifeline' of Mumbai city-the local train.  But I beg to differ, in that, I feel that if you travel by the local, then you need a lifeline to survive.

My experiences of the local train network are varied.  I am a bus traveller, but sometimes it is more efficient to travel by the local because they have a fixed time slot and  one can reach the destination of far flung suburbs faster than by bus.  Besides direct buses are not available to far off suburbs and the bus services are not regular.  Trains are regular and reliable.  But.....

The misery of train travel begins at the ticketing window.  Dirty, smelly, scantily clad urchins or a minor beggar, or an old, half paralyzed beggar, are always on one side of the ticketing window, watching you buy your ticket, making you guilty of spending money on yourself.  Their extended palms and rhythmic banging of a begging bowl, puts one off, the anticipation of the journey is now perforated with sadness and remorse, at the state of the individual that one is expected to appease with cash.

Then the rush of boarding the correct train, and hurriedly plonking onto any vacant seat, before none are left vacant with the hoards that ply on the route.  But finding a seat is possible at the starting points of Churchgate, CST or Virar etc.  If you board at any of the intermediate stations, you will never get a seat.  You are lucky if you manage to board the train at all.  There are just too many commuters for the limited trains on the circuits. My colleagues who travel daily from Nallasopara to Mumbai Central, always board the train at four in the morning and that too, the local that is headed backwards, to the starting point of Virar.  Then they continue to sit in the train and head back towards Mumbai Central.  That is the only way they say that it is possible to be in the train at all, because it gets too crowded to be able to board it at all, after that, even at the next stop of Nallasopara.

 I had to travel from Grant  Road station to Santa Cruz, for some administrative work.  Having managed to board the train, I felt relieved, since it was quite crowded.  All the seats were occupied,  fourth seats also.  Women were standing between seats and along the corridor between the seats and holding the above-head handles and standing between the entrances. A torture to breathe in their smelly armpits that were all around my face.   I got a support on the back of the side seats. 

My attention was diverted to some women shouting from the window seats that overlooked the neighbouring stationary train.  Some of them were shouting encouraging words and some were shouting 'nahee'.  As I craned my neck to find out the centre of their attention, I realized that a young boy was being urged by his mother to urinate at the entrance of the neighbouring train and the boy was hesitant.  But soon he overcame his shame on being encouraged by the women from our train too.  'Becharaa,  bhachcha hai.  Susu karne do nah.  Toilet bhi toh nahee stationpar.'  And then our train took off.

Then the train approached Dadar and what a mad rush ensued.  Women pushing their way in and others pushing their way out.  Abuses and screams and  expletives galore.  All the new entrants started asking the seated women where they would alight, and forming mutual bonds for reserving the seats when the present occupants would vacate them.  I was pinched, pressed, pushed and poked, by the women who alighted and the ones who boarded, in huge waves of onslaught. 

What a torture these travellers undergo daily.  For a novice local train traveller like me,  it is traumatic.  And among all the din of the crowd in the overfull bogie,  the background noise of the metal wheels pulling the train towards each station, the background announcements of the approaching stations,  the audio advertisements of Kubal Masale, was repetitively being played, as though all was well and hunky dory within the bogie.

What a relief it was to alight and be free of the confines of the melee.