Mumbai - An Addiction

So… I am at this “tapri”, having my smoke, with a bottle of Maaza. (It’s a delightful combination by the way) when this happy little family, complete with a toddler who was half-walking, half-swinging holding on tightly to his dad on his left and his mom on his right.

As they passed me, I couldn’t help smiling at the playful antics the kid was up to. He looked up at me and smiled back. That’s the great things about kids. They always smile back when you smile at them. There are no reservations or apprehensions that the other person is a stranger. These things set in once the cruelty of the world is drilled into their system.

Anyways, so this toddler smiled, and then he was obviously attracted by the faintly burning ember between my fingers, after all it is quite artistic, a stick glowing at the periphery at one end, with mystical smoke emanating from it… yes, I could understand why the kid found it appealing. So he let go of his mother’s hand and pointed out to the cigarette. His mom turned around, and was aghast to see that the little child was showing interest, so early in his career, in something so baleful. She scowled at her husband. Muttering under her breath, but yet loud enough, “It’s all your fault. You better stop smoking at home. Else Mihir is going to be a chain smoker by he is six.” The scowl persisted even though the scolding stopped at that. The father gave me a helpless look. It said, “Dude… you had to be here right now? Ok, I guess it’s not your fault. You carry on. I need a smoke too.”

It made me wonder about the fundas of parenting. Obviously I can’t comment from my own experience, but the general trend seems to be that if a child picks up, shall I say tangible, bad habits, like swearing, smoking, drinking, etc. the blame goes to the father. And for the more intangible bad habits, like being rude to elders, or being atheist, etc, are blamed on the mother. Now I guess I can be labeled as atheist. And I do smoke. My mom is very religious, and my dad doesn’t smoke. So whose fault is it? Ok… ok… I take the entire blame for that.

Labels: Cigarette, Father, Kids, Mother, Parenting

These days when you roam around the roads of Mumbai you notice the huge electronic dashboards put up by the RTO I assume that display messages encouraging driving discipline, or instilling fear of the rod as they show the count of number of drivers who are thrown to the gallows for drunken driving, etc. etc.

But RTO sure caught me by surprise with one of its messages:

“Go when Green, and stop when red. Unless you are eating a water melon”!!!

Now humour is the last thing I expected from RTO. When you go to the Mumbai RTO, with the utterly unpaved road which forms atrociously gooey mud puddles in the rains. And with the throngs of daily applicants for licenses, and the endless documents for which someone must have felled an entire rain forest… humour is the last thing that strikes you about the RTO.

And yet they had that water melon message. I wonder how many levels of approval that innocuous message must have gone through. How many “traditional” officers would have opposed putting an unorthodox message like that for public display.

Or maybe I am just thinking too much.

Labels: Mumbai, RTO, signal

Begging is as profitable an industry as any in Mumbai. And over the period of time it has evolved to match the ever changing sensibilities of the ones they depend on. That is Us. Of course they have also scaled up to match the inflation and the increased salaries that the spoilt and pampered youth of today jingle in their pockets. But even the beggars can't think it all... and end up running into a client who is so overly helpful... that they just can not accept his offerings.

Outside Andheri station, at the signal, an established modus operandi of a beggar, or a group of them, is to claim money from the people in autos, cars and bikes, who are already quite hassled about the traffic to have the patience to deal with trouser hemlines tugging beggars. The pretext is what makes the Andheri signal beggars stand apart. They claim money saying that there is a funeral procession for which they need money. Now death, even of absolute strangers, does move most of us. And people do buy in to this death scam and dole out money, a lot more generously than they would have otherwise.

But this time, right next to my own auto, was a guy who either had a heart of tin, or a sense of humour of the devil himself. This beggar comes up to him and says... "Bhai... Janaza hai. Madat karo. Paisa do (There's a funeral. Please help by giving some money)" The irate guy just mumbled something under his breath in his attempt to shoo the beggar away. But beggars are more persistent than that sales guy who knocks on your door to sell the latest whitening detergent. "Janaze ke liye mana nahin kartein (You shouldn't refuse to help for a funeral)" The beggar scolded. Wrong Move!

The guy, as if extremely moved, and enlightened by the beggar’s wise words, grabbed him and pulled him in the auto. "Sahi Kaha. Tu mujhe janaze mein lekar chal. Main puri madat karoonga. Saare kharche doonga. Tu mereko leke chal. (You are right. Take me to the funeral. I will help with everything and pay all expenses. Just take me there)"

Not used to such vehement sympathies, the beggar tried pulling away. The guy held on with an iron grip, now pleading to let him help. The Beggar wanted none of it. It was a rare scene.
It concluded by the signal becoming green, and the beggar scampering away to safety. And me and my autowala guffawing away at the guy's ready wit.

Labels: andheri, beggar, funeral, Mumbai

It was a regular morning. Trains were jam-packed as usual. I was standing amidst the hundreds others in my compartment. A yowl… of sheer pain tore through the hullabaloo from a someone beside me. Someone landed his foot heavily on someone else’s foot. The victim pleaded to the pain inflictor standing in front of him, “Bhaisaab, jara apna pair hataana” The bhaisaab looked at the victim with a bewildered expression. He looked down at the victim’s foot, which still had its tormentor nested on it. He looked back squarely at the victim. “Yeh mera pair nahin hai” And got back to the grind of his journey again.

The foot eventually removed itself. Its owner was never identified.

Labels: Crowds, Local Trains, Mumbai