Another day in hell
We, in Mumbai, have come to terms with the fact that we enjoy absolutely no standard of living.
Especially those of us, who travel by local trains, are sufficiently happy if we don't end up writhing in pain on the platform.
My day is incomplete if I'm not punched in the face by someone's elbow or handbag. My travel experience is incomplete if someone doesn't sneeze or cough in my face.
My earrings have been wrenched out while in the process of trying to get off the train. My hair has been used as a lever/handle by the people in queue behind me. They have latched on to my locks and tried heaving themselves into the train or off the train. Quite a fairy-tale experience this! I'm the contemporary Rapunzel!
In Mumbai, our fashion sense is not guided by magazines and by what’s trending. Our outfits are chosen based on their sturdiness and ability to withstand friction during excessive body contact.
Fat women terrorize packed train compartments by parking indefinable parts of their vast bodies on timid fellow travelers. Having your face lodged into lard, is quite ordinary. Thin women are no better, their jutting out bones jab the gut. As random handbags, napkins and lunchboxes perch on my head, I’m led to believe that I may have features that oddly resemble a train rack.
Mumbai Local train commuting is not for the frail bodied, feeble minded or faint hearted.
While being pressed against a co-passenger, there are moments when one can hear the others heartbeat, and at times worse, their stomach rumbling.
In Mumbai, we are used to hellish screaming, boisterous tugging and ruthless wrenching.
And even if you bathe in hot springs with aromatic bath soaps and drench yourself in perfume, the arduous train ordeal is going to render you smelling like a rotting pigeon carcass.
Especially those of us, who travel by local trains, are sufficiently happy if we don't end up writhing in pain on the platform.
My day is incomplete if I'm not punched in the face by someone's elbow or handbag. My travel experience is incomplete if someone doesn't sneeze or cough in my face.
My earrings have been wrenched out while in the process of trying to get off the train. My hair has been used as a lever/handle by the people in queue behind me. They have latched on to my locks and tried heaving themselves into the train or off the train. Quite a fairy-tale experience this! I'm the contemporary Rapunzel!
In Mumbai, our fashion sense is not guided by magazines and by what’s trending. Our outfits are chosen based on their sturdiness and ability to withstand friction during excessive body contact.
Fat women terrorize packed train compartments by parking indefinable parts of their vast bodies on timid fellow travelers. Having your face lodged into lard, is quite ordinary. Thin women are no better, their jutting out bones jab the gut. As random handbags, napkins and lunchboxes perch on my head, I’m led to believe that I may have features that oddly resemble a train rack.
Mumbai Local train commuting is not for the frail bodied, feeble minded or faint hearted.
While being pressed against a co-passenger, there are moments when one can hear the others heartbeat, and at times worse, their stomach rumbling.
In Mumbai, we are used to hellish screaming, boisterous tugging and ruthless wrenching.
And even if you bathe in hot springs with aromatic bath soaps and drench yourself in perfume, the arduous train ordeal is going to render you smelling like a rotting pigeon carcass.
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