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| Sameer, with his Salvador Dali like mustache! |
Once in a while, I get possessed with the "get out of softly padded walls of your comfort zones, dare to do difficult and show the courage girl!" spirit. Following that spirit about a fortnight back I ventured out by Mumbai local train. Travelling by the local trains is quite an adventure! I can't boast about having much experience of Mumbai local trains but have always been fascinated by the amazing character of the city that one gets to see in the travel. If you want to experience the real essence of this city, you must travel by local trains, that too, in second class where you get to see interesting menagerie of people.
Back to my travel; there I was, admiring my luck for having successfully boarded the train during lean hours and having found almost empty compartment. The repugnant smells of body odours of the passengers, fresh flowers, scented oils, cheap food and hideously strong perfumes exploded from every corner making me almost puke. Posters in shockingly loud colours, jarring mobile ringtones, loud conversations enveloped me in sensory overload, constantly reminding me that a barrage of impressions, shocks and jolts are part of the package of amazing experience of travel by local train in Mumbai. There was a beautiful order within the apparent disorder, just like it happens in my mind.
I started to slowly adjust to the deafening cacophony of urban chaos from various directions and wondering what a painful grind it must be for people who commute every single day for their work. Observing tired, agitated, stony faces and the complete surrender to the destiny hidden in the eyes of regular commuters makes one realize how life is a constant struggle for most in this metropolis beaming with glamour and power. A few young, happy faces of college going students, bubbling with great energy brought me some respite.
When the train reached Dadar station; a kid barely five, boarded the train with his hawker mother in her twenties and visibly pregnant, struggling to balance with one hand a dangling infant on her shoulder and with other, plastic trays full with cheap products on her head. As the train caught the speed, the kid started performing a dance with an iron ring. He sang latest Bollywood songs and with little pelvic thrust, danced very awkwardly passing the iron ring through his body simultaneously. His performance was amateur but with his artificial Salvador Dali like mustache and oversized cap, it turned out to be immensely hilarious. Nervous with the mean stares, unkind comments and some laughter, the kid looked at his mother helplessly. Her alert eyes kept a tight check on customers scanning her goods from her plastic trays and her son.
I called the kid, asked his name and tried to strike conversation to which he obliged after getting an approval from his mother through her expressions. Before I could talk much, it was time for the kid to alight from the train at the next station and board another compartment. Fortunately, I had taken his photograph just in time with his permission and he had approved it with a big, innocent smile. Hurriedly, I slipped a fifty rupee note to the kid and silently saluted the woman who despite being in her third trimester managed to work so efficiently in such harsh conditions.
Later, I learned from the regular commuters that it was only second day of probation for the kid and people loved him as he was a welcome distraction in otherwise mundane and tedious journey. With that conversation, I became little sad thinking about Sameer. His big, beautiful eyes with that piercing gaze snapped something within and a few questions started haunting me. Would Sameer ever go to school? Would he, like the normal kids ever have a birthday party? Would he find escape from the dreary life he was subjected to? How would he survive? Would he drift from torture of different unskilled jobs from this young age? What skills he would learn? Would he fall in wrong hands and get lost in this chaotic urban sprawl? Would he ever get to play, like a normal child? I got a lump in my throat thinking about the sad glimpse of life I had just witnessed. I tried to console myself with empty "everything will be all right" but I knew deep down everything was not okay for Sameer. I prayed God to grant Sameer a normal, happy life and wriggled my way through exit at Churchgate station.
I know, I am going back to check on Sameer soon and hopefully be able to do something meaningful. Till then, that innocent face of little Dali is going to haunt me for sure!
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