Local Trains @ Mumbai

Local Trains

If you ever happen to travel by Local train;
You will come to know about agonizing strain.
When the train enters the platform;
The crowd loses its uniform.

The train is about to come to halt,
Suddenly sea of crowd enter like cattle.
In this, the poor oldies, loose the battle.
Some cling on the foot-board.
Making accidents on board.

The rush in the train sharpens
Unfortunate thing happens.
One fall off the train as he is lame.
And lo! We find him next, hung on a wall in a photographic frame.

How this gruesome tale be told;
For that one should be bold.

If you wish to travel in local train.
Enter trains without brains.

Aditi birth...

There was palpable excitement in the air. The delivery date was more or less known now. The near and dear ones were there to comfort me and share the happiness on this occasion.

The previous night the debate continued weather it was baby girl or baby boy. Fortunately there was no money at stake to win or lose. And also the bet would have been significantly important as the following dawn was the day they had tied the knot some three years back.

Next day morning on a journey which usually lasts an hour looked more than one. It was unusual that on this day few of my colleagues preferred to stay indoors and not report to duty. Taj Pasha our company pick up van driver had arrived some 5 clear minutes early at my stop at the Banashankari Ring road.

I had to hurry my steps and it looked as if I was galloping like a horse on a derby. Taj never liked people coming late. He never expressed his displeasure but his face was more than enough to communicate to vent his ire. As he had reach office just in time to avoid late mark.

Chilly Bangalore winter made matter worse. The chilly wind would discomfort any foolhardy driver. There was no one in the van except Taj the driver. Seizing the opportunity I proposed for a freshly brewed filter coffee. Taj was more than enthusiastic to agree. He never minced words while saying “ Yes”.

Displaying his driving skills Taj changed gears and slowly stopped the van opposite a darshani hotel on the Kamakhya circle. After paying in advance for the coffee I also ordered for Idli a taste neutral pan cake which is consumed mostly early in the morning in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu states.

Just then the call came on my mobile. The number was familiar. It was my father-in-law on the other end. He gave the details how my wife was admitted to hospital in the middle of the night with the help of a auto driver who did’t even take the auto hire charges to Apollo Hospital in Mysore . I mentioned Taj about my wife hospitalization. His advice to me,” Saab! Tumhe hospital ko jao” ( Sir, go to the hospital - Hyderbadi Hindi)

Taj words of wisdom did very little to trace my steps backwards. The idea of sales co-ordination meeting was looming large on my face. The same words of wisdom echoed from other colleagues who later boarded the van en route to office. Rather hesitantly I called up my father in law who was carrying my wife mobile to know the latest on the matter.

He equally seemed exited about the whole matter. The doctor had said that it will happen by this afternoon. With a assurance to call back in next 45 mts . I was nervous a lot and within next 20mts the call came to my mobile .The news was that Savitha had delivered a healthy girl baby at 10 past 20 mts on 2nd Dec 2004.

What a rare co-incidence, we got married same time and same date 2 Dec 2001.

Dombivli-Poli Bhaji Kendra- BPO

Mumbai , " Amchi Mumbai" is echoed by not only localities but also settlers who have come from other states. Dombivli in early 1950 to late 1970 was typically Chitpavan Brahmins paradise. Local Train connectivity made it more affordable. It was in the early 80s that the population of Dombivli started to balloon. Mumbai " Bombay" then had influx of people from all corners of India. Mumbai was a dream to millions who wanted to make it big.


Middle class families settled for Dombivli for its accessibility and affordability. Not to mention the educational institutions like Tilak high school, Pendharkar college etc. which held the town reputation high. It was the working educated class which made much impact to the city's reputation. The Dombivli railway station is known for its mad rushes and the sea of people are always on the move.


This sight is worth watching at 7 am in the morning on weekdays and evening after 7 pm. There would be equal numbers of Men and Women who would jostled to catch hold of the train.This made this town unique; both husband and wife are employed.Exhausted but not lost were the people who would be determined to see the next day, with new set of hope in their heart and to see a better tomorrow, for themselves and their children. And time was the essence of every activity and that is one reason why Mumbai still is called a Fast City as compared to other metros.


The women traditional role of cooking in house was about to go with the introduction of new concept," Poli Bhaji- kendra" The first of its kind in India. I believe the first one to start was one shop just below High tension line on the Manpada Road Intersection. (before Kasturi Plaza) The unique thing about this Poli ( Wheat Flat Bread- in Marathi or Chapati as it is called popularly) was its consistency in taste, shape and thickness and it was made by less educated ladies who would put all their experience behind those tasty Poli's. This gave the less educated ladies the opportunity to utilise their skill which would be economically beneficial to them.


This poli was priced at only Rs0.75 paise and Bhaji( Dry/Wet gravy of vegetables) would be sold in Grams as a weight of measure. This was instant hit in Dombivli. People who were busy to rush to their work would now get up late instead of getting up very early in the morning. They would straight head for Station. On the way they would get packed Poli and Bhaji. Many would do the same after returning from work. And it made sense for the working class to purchase Poli Bhaji and save the cooking time.


It was a win-win situation for all; for the businessman who had this brilliant idea of setting up the Poli-Bhaji Kendra, the customers who could now utilise their time with family and lastly the poor less educated ladies who could be employed in most effective way.

Our Small Dwelling

Whilst in Bombay we were put in middle class suburb called Dombivli. My father came to mumbai in the late 60's. It was like someone staying in USA or Europe now. Our locality was called Gokhale Wadi in Dombivli East. Gokhale wadi was cluster of residential labour lines as one may see now.


The facilities were very basic. And our dwelling was one of the smallest. It hardly measured
135 square feet. In that we had kitchen platform and bathroom without toilet. And the toilet block was some 200 feet away. Our small dwelling was attached to one "Girni " ( Flour Mill) and the grinding noise would always bring headache. Also it meant that the flour dust would enter our house.

My father was Asthmatic and the flour dust would trigger asthmatic attack. He tried every trick to stop the dust to come in but failed. It also ensured that house mice would make its round every night. Right diagonally across Manpada Road was a pond but later it was sewage discharge area.( Now it is a beautiful park) The mosquitoes would hold seige over our area.


We used Tortoise Mosquito coils earlier and then we were the first ones in Gokhale Wadi to purchase Good Night Mosquito repellent. My father was jubilant he had got hold of one brahmastra against mosquitoes. He tried some ultra-sound equipment, some liquid called MOSRUN ( read Mosquito Run) but none could match Good Knight which was bought out by a company called Transelecktra. And till today in my native place where my father and mother are settled you will find to much amusement Good knight keeps on burning continuously.


In that small room we had practically everything one could conceive of. We had a showcase which acted as a bifurcating wall in that small room. We also had a telivision a sewing machine, A diwan a water storage drum and kitchen wear, a study table and what not..


Hygiene was always in question. The water source was contaminated and my father again pitched in with Zero B water purifier. But one thing he had little control was Toilet. As I mentioned the toilet block was away and was used by many.


People didn't bother to keep toilet clean and would carry small bucket to flush. There were few hardened oldies who would carry a copy of newspaper to read leisurely inside without minding people were waiting in a que to get their chance to diffuse the bowel movement.


In spite of all the physical difficulties which we faced in Gokhale wadi we were contended and rarely thought of the bigger world for ourselves. And I will always remember Gokhale wadi residents as large hearted and full of empathy.

Today my dwelling is relatively big but not sure of my heart.

Mansoon -Bare foot Football

It was 1988 monsoon and Konkan rains are quite heavy. Although Dombivli is not in Konkan region but the rains are more or less similar. In Gokhale wadi we were always had novel ways to beat the vagaries of nature.



Gokhale wadi would be flooded in monsoon and there was hardly any scope for playing in that swampy ground. We would always look out for weekends for a game of football. The only place to think of playing football was DNC playground at Nandivli which was walkable distance for us all.

Our football preparation was bare minimal. And our hero was Maradona of Argentina and ofcourse we loved the Brazillian Samba. Our senior could manage to purchase a football out of their own contribution. Being junior we also contributed. I remember of not paying more than 3 rupees to Nanda.


Being from lower middle class family we never had the privilege of Sports shoes or the sports shorts. We were happy that we at least had football of our own. At ground we used to put 2 bricks at a specified distance and that would be our goal post. Barefoot with cotton shorts on we aimed at the opposite goal post. The rains would make the game more lively and dribbling through small puddles would always remain challenge. Atul sarnaik(balu) was a boxer but liked playing football. He had the habit of approaching the ball menacingly. That act would unnerve any amateur like me. Dileep(vaji) and Milind Limaye urf Rafi were the best among us.

Not to mention the outsiders like Prakash(pakya) , Nagendra( nagya) who had solid control over the ball. Nagendra now hold a high position of Company Secretary in a Private firm in Bangalore.

Most injury marks on my knee and below can be attributed to football. I remember having played football even after having a toe injury. I had used a polythene bag and tied it with rubber band such was the passion. And no amount of enjoyment would describe one would feel while running on wet grass and one would naturally except one to slip and fall on one's back.

By playing football we Gokhale wadi buddies had learnt on agility, speed,control and team work all rolled into one while playing this game. Little did I wonder that the same things are being taught in premier Management education programs. That all I learnt while playing football barefoot.

First day: 2nd Innings @ 9th Grade.

Our school would reopen after summer vacation in June first week. The school would start at 12.00 noon. and this time I was less enthused about the whole affair. Having failed to clear the exams I was to sit through the whole year once again in 9th grade with some new junior age class. I could see my old batch mates getting into new class 10th grade or popularly called 10th Standard-SSC. That is the time I realised the importance of loosing a year.

I remember after making enquiries I came to the designated class and I took last but one bench on the right hand side. The girls used to sit on the left and boys at the right. Taking cue from me both Ganesh and Mahesh accompanied me. The class began with a prayer a sanskrit hymn devoted to Goddess Saraswati ( the goddess of knowledge) Yaa Kundendu..Tushara......
and followed by a kind of oath, " India is my country...."

We came to know that it was Mrs Gupte who was our teacher. What she did made a permanent mark in my life. From her I learnt the art of non-discrimination. She was our English teacher and our class teacher, a kind of mentor teacher. She noticed that we were sitting in the last benches little bit nervous of the things to come. She took decisions. She politely asked us to sit on the first bench. A sought of promotion from last bench to first bench in my 2nd innings at 9th grade! It was considered that, dull students should sit in the front so that they can be mentored as closely as possible in a classroom kind of situation.

I occupied the first bench which was bit isolated with Mahesh. It was bit discomforting as Mahesh was left handed and I was right handed. Ganesh took one bench behind us. Mrs Gupte did talk few comforting words only which a mother could have given. She told take this opportunity to strengthen the weak points so that we become strong in those areas. And I remember I found myself difficult to introduce myself to the class. My head was bent and my voice very feeble and hardly anyone could have heard me what I was speaking or mumbling ,may be the shame had overcome me.Moreover my name was difficult to pronounce "Phaniraj Chandra"

Some teachers would call me," Paaniraaj" loosely translated " Water king" and some took the liberty to call me," Praaniraaj" ( Animal king- Praani is Animal in Sanskrit, Hindi and Marathi, Kannada and many more languages) And there were some teachers who would pronounce my name as Phunnyraj, (heard as Funny Raj) I would get upset but at the same time little I could do and rather never protested. And Still I do not protest when someone intentionally or unintentionally wrongly pronounces my name.

I remember that comforting words and Mrs Gupte treated all her wards equally and made us all believe we could do it! And I had new wonderful batchmates I knew Sachin Sardesai and also Mukta as she used to stay near our house and Sanjay Shenoy was known for his academics so was Gouri. I knew Parag Seth and Ajay Shah and that gave me a sense of belonging. I acknowlege that never anybody from my classmates to our teacher made us feel that we were the ones who were spending 2 nd year to learn the same thing all over again.

This made me not so alien in that group and Mrs Gupte was kind of mentor I was just looking for. She built in us enough confidence to face the class for the second innings and of course the world.

The day I failed...

It was well acknowledged by my school teachers that if I pass in the exams the whole class passes. These was the reputation I carried on my shoulders. With little grace marks I would always get promoted into next higher class. Yet ,I could not shoulder it in 1985-86. I failed in 9th grade. Handing over the result Mrs Joshi told me, " All have passed now sit in the same class this year."

Now the result being handed over I was curious to know, " Was there anybody who could lighten my load of shame or share my agony " In that moment of crisis I could see 2 more disappointed faces, Ganesh Malphatak and Mahesh Gupta and I do not recall the girl name who also could not get through. But it was a relief to note that other two would be my class mates once again.

There was no remorse on my face. Although Manpada road in Dombivli was crowded as usual so that one get easily lost in the crowd, yet I felt never so lonely on the road to my house.
I came home my father was busy giving final touches to civil ( cement masonry) work he had undertaken with all ingenuity. He asked lovingly, " What happened?" And very loosely I uttered," I failed!" Adding ," Ganesh Malphatak and Mahesh too have failed!" Ganesh's father and my father were room mates when they were bachelors at" Athavale lodge" near Ganesh Mandir. ( now there is no athavale lodge)

My father was disappointed , to his existing bundle of miseries I had added another. He had lost his bread winning job and didn't know what exactly do and there I was standing shamelessly bringing disrepute to parents and putting further financial strain to the family.

Socially my father was well respected for his knowledge and integrity and honesty. His emotions became intense. He hit me moderately once at my left arm. I stood motionless holding my head down. He had a piece of advice," We brahmins have only got one thing, education!; If you don't work hard towards that , success will elude you." The only good thing about failing was I need not purchase new text books.

Now I was relieved and changed myself and went straight to play cricket with my Gokhale wadi mates. They too asked about my result. I told them ," I failed". Astonished, they were , found it difficult to believe that I had come to play a round of cricket shamelessly.

Mother came to house exhausted. She was a teacher in Manjunatha Vidyalaya for pre-primary section. She smilingly asked what happened to my Results ? I told her and tears rolled over her face. It was disappointing since it is taken for granted that teachers son/ daughter are good in studies and can never fail. And here I was exception to the perceived rule.

I took some bad hits on my face from my mother and was inconsolable. As the news of my failure reached our neighbours within the locality people came to sympathise and showed lot of empathy. At that time I did not realise the value of time lost and how hard was for my parents to earn our daily bread and educate me.

More than me my parents were jolted and in our family, failing in this education system was the last thing to happen.

Failing for the first time is difficult but later I learnt it did lot good to me. That time I was not ashamed as Ganesh and Mahesh were there to share my misery . But today am not ashamed as this very failure brought many changes in my life.

And for once I felt good ,that ,"I failed!"