Only in Mumbai ( a short story )....

" You know aam chori? "
" No. "
" You no play? "
" I can't understand.. what?"
" See...
Aam chori...  clap! clap! clap!
Chappa chori ... clap ! clap! clap!
Garam masala... clap! clap! clap!
Paani puri... clap! clap! clap!  " 



Not just any Friday afternoon. No. One doesn't get to see things like this everyday.
No no no.....Not just anywhere. This is amchi Mumbai...This can't happen everywhere.


4 blondes and a brunette in white sleeveless kurtis, heavy-handedly plaited hair, khakhi pants and goggles that all together scream- "We are tourists!"...... 2 small girls, brown hair, filthy tattered clothes, innocent toothy grins and a slightly taller boy, black rudraksha thread tied sacredly to his throat and another religious black thread on his arm and possessing the kindest pair of eyes I have seen in a very long time......
Put them together on the same local boggie..... Pure magic.


Just about 40 minutes on an afternoon, slow, Mumbai suburban train - From Santacruz to Mumbai central station. It was just another afternoon, nothing special about it. I had an oversized backpack slumped on my back and a cheap brown goggle pushed up my forehead, resting on my head. My mind was jumbled... ( like always-  half into a dead yesterday and half into an unborn tomorrow ) My ears were unwillingly putting up with some soundless music blaring in my ears... And I was thinking to myself - 'God! My bag is heavy.'.... :)
I tell you, books are your best friends and everything. But, when you have to carry them all  around while travelling..... they are nothing, but a pain in the........ let's keep it "bag", shall we? :)


So there I was - fretting at anything and everything.. frowning at the sweaty afternoon... complaining... sad.... miserable. But, definitely not accepting any of it.


Station after station... The mechanical ladies' voice announced each one. ( It is truly enchanting to watch new technology splashed onto a poster-crowded, run-down daily local train... Almost like a polar bear in the middle of an African jungle! Out of place, yet totally 'cool' !! )


Next stop- Khar road...


In walk a never-ending stream of the aforementioned foreigner ladies... what they spoke was definitely not English. Even if I screen the accent off somehow, the words weren't making much sense. Maybe French? German? Probably a bunch of Europeans on a "girls-day-out" kind of trip to our very own " Incredible" India.. What makes foreigners feel so chirpy on a local Mumbai train under the hot March Mumbai sun, I could never comprehend. It is probably the same exuberance which I once saw on the faces of a 'healthy' Gujarati family I ran into in Ahmedabad airport... Just back from the dreamland "Amreeka"  (evident from the loose shorts, brand new luggage bags and mismatched knee length boots.. ) beeming away like they had seen some paradise that Columbus couldn't have possibly ever found.


Anyways, back to this group of touristas. They cross me and sit on the benches planted just opposite to mine.. I had a full view, but they had their backs turned towards me. Perfecto! Now, I could see what they were up to without being labelled as some nosy Indie gal by them!


Just as the last of them was settling down, she looked to her left and said - "Hi!"


Prejudice is the worse thing one can ever harbor, I tell you! There I was expecting some dashing Punjabi dude to emerge miraculously from the seat next to them... But, lo and behold. Up popped 2 tiny heads and then a taller fellow- a boy.. their brother? I would never know..


They started chatting like old friends bumping into one another at Heathrow International airport, each waiting for their boarding calls to different airplanes.... a language barrier certainly not being seen as a hindrance.

" What is that thing on your arm? "


" This? Ye bhagwan ka he..Up ... Up... "

He points his finger upwards and closes his eyes. The foreigner nods in complete understanding. 


Out comes a freshly strewn wreath (gajra) of jasmine and interspersed red roses from a little brown bag which one of the little girls carried. 

" Ye lo... Pehno"

And the girl tiptoes and tries to reach and hinge it into one of the ladies' hair, just as the other girl goes up and sits next to another of the fair haired ladies and tries teaching her an extremely popular little girl's game in India- Aam chori..... Clapping hands, cheering smiles, flickering camera lights and an open mouthed onlooker- me.


Had the roles been reversed. Would I have done something like this? If I was that foreigner, would I have so trustingly shown off my costly digital camera to some unknown street girl on some unknown suburban train in some unknown country? Maybe not... And then, had I been one of those little girls, would I have had the courage to go and talk to a bunch of unknown ladies from some unknown place? I don't think so.

And then it strikes me. How many times have I used the words- " I " and "unknown" ! 
Way too much..


Next stop- Lower Parel. The little girls and their supposed brother get off the train and walk off with gigantic smiles pasted to their faces and waving away like crazy till the train pushes off. The foreigners too, zealously clicking away pictures and blowing air kisses at them, uncaring what people around would think. They were all happy. And that was all that mattered to them!


The train moved on. We still had a few stops to reach Mumbai Central. I was waiting for an encore. Waiting for that cliched " dashing Punjabi dude "... But, nothing happened. 

Next stop- Mumbai Central.


I pick up my overstuffed backpack and get off the train. 


The long walk to my platform, where I was to catch my next train, saw me question the same things that had popped up when I was watching those 20 minutes of awesome activity and energy.


a. Who is 'unknown' ? And why are we so afraid of it? Is it because it is different from what we are ? God created the world in his own image. He didn't create differences. That is all our doings. Hence, the concept of 'unknown' is also, man-made.There is a piece of Godliness in every living thing. If only we can see it, no place or person would be unknown.


b. Why do we constantly think of " I " and "me" ? Won't the world be a better place if we live for others, because in that way, someone else would be living for me. And I for someone else. Isn't that all that truly matters - to matter? to make some difference... to create some joy before the joyride gets over for good ?


And finally, c. Ironically enough....Why do we think that we know someone we don't actually know? Why do we see the world through spectacles tainted with past experiences, ill-formed opinions and senseless advices ? Being hurt is as much an emotion as being in love. Then why do we fear it so much ? Perhaps, there is nothing like fear. Perhaps, we are just afraid of 'fear' per se and so we call it 'fear' and run miles away from it. Could there be a world without this 'fear' ?


40 minutes and I am a question mark.


Only in Mumbai..