The Virar Local- A scary preview

"An urban legend, urban myth, or urban tale is a form of modern folklore consisting of stories thought to be factual by those circulating them. The term is often used to mean something akin to an "apocryphal story." Like all folklore, urban legends are not necessarily false, but they are often distorted, exaggerated, or sensationalized over time."

Mumbai, like all large cities, has its fair share of these. The beer man. The hammer man. Leopards picking up children and nonchalantly crossing the streets at Borivili. Parsi ghosts of south mumbai. All these stories have at various points in time gained in prominance, spooked citizens, and have helped sell a lot of copies of Mid-days and Mumbai Mirrors. But like all things uniquely Mumbai, its most popular, long standing, and spookiest of urban legends has to be one involving local trains and lots of people. Its called the Virar Local.

Like any other visitor or new immigrant to this island city, i too received my instructions about surviving in this city from many sources. Some were perhaps immaterial guides about things such as interpreting auto meters(one needs to pay rupee 1 less than the display). Some were practical- about lift queues and bus routes. And then there were some which always seemed like hyperbole at first. Floods and rains, for example.

I'd luckily landed in 2006, the year following the worst monsoon disaster. When on the road in some of the low lying areas, colleagues would suddenly point towards an impossible looking height on some landmark, and say "the water reached up there", sounding very prophet like. To a cynical me, at that point in time, they all looked as real as the biblical Noah. Having come from the north-east, which i knew faced rains much more than any other part in the country, i assumed monsoons here would be a walk in the park.

It turned out to be a swim instead. Of perhaps all the cities in the world, its only in Mumbai where a person leaving home in the morning for work/college/school has to fear drowning on his normal route as a distinct possibility. The rate at which water rises on the streets resembles bathtub getting filled up. A humongous bathtub filling fast, and with no plug in sight to pull.

But i think I've digressed a bit here. Natural disasters(though some people might have a challenge with classifying the Mumbai floods in the same category) hardly do make for an exciting read nor can they become urban legends. Let me come back to the story I started with earlier. The Virar local. "Never board a Virar Local unless you are travelling right up till Virar" is a piece of advice which every Mumbaikar would have heard of. "They would not let you get alight otherwise." When i first heard this, i immediately scoffed at it. The thought that the very same Mumbaikar, who legendarily would extend his hand and pull you inside an already crowded local(a la Diwala Dulhaniya), could turn into a prison warden and not let you alight was too filmy a twist to accept as being true. I'd always assumed it to be one of those "apocryphal stories" , which are good to hear but always seem to happen to no one but a friend of a friend. Of course, as a daily traveller in Mumbai locals, i am no stranger to crowded compartments. Distinctively crowds in this city have always been sensitive to the comfort of their co-passengers. Whenever possible, they will make it a point to try and create room for others as well as respect other's private space. Therefore, i always assumed the Virar story to be an exaggeration.

Till the day i boarded one, of course. Or rather till the day my train turned into a Virar Local, to be more exact. Let me explain.

The local system in Mumbai is acknowledged to be one of the most complex functional networks in the world. Trains start, pass-through, and end at a bewildering number of stations and junctions on a tight schedule. Though there only exist two directions of travel (north-south), start and end points of trains vary. On my way back from work at Malad, I typically travel till Andheri and it was on one such journey that my train on reaching Andheri was designated to ply on the opposite direction as a "Virar Local". That meant the platform at which i would alight in would be teeming with passengers rushing in to board the train.

My compartment was crowded and I tried to make room and head towards the exit. Surprisingly, i noticed no one else bothered to move from their places and head towards the exit even though the last platform was approaching. In fact, after some time i noticed people standing closer to the doors were hurriedly shifting and trying to fit themselves in towards the inner reaches of the compartment. This was decidedly eerie. Till an elderly gentleman gently put his hands on my shoulders and explained- "yeh train Virar local banega -Aap baith jao". I was still quite perplexed and right about then the train gently rolled into the platform. The crowd, as i peeped through the windows seemed to be spilling out into the tracks. I sat down, mesmerized because i had never in my life seen a platform so crowded. And then the train came to a halt and the noise began. Of people rushing into the compartment. It was loud and sounded almost like an invading army. People flowed in, but very unlike a tide. It was more of a tsunami. These people rushing on board looking for seats had the look of famished animals searching for meat. Within seconds the whole bogie was crowded. If any unsuspecting soul had been standing near the doors, he would have been crushed. I had a tough time alighting from that stationary train, even when it was waiting in its station of origin. I could completely agree that these people would not allow me to alight from the train in anywhere on route. The legend was true.

Gang of Girls

I distantly heard a strong feminine voice. "Seat No 39 is mine". It took me a moment to recollect that i was stretched out on the seat in question. I opened my eyes, trying hard to peer through the blur and locate the source of the voice. Well built lady of around 35. I could say that she was kind hearted, but at the moment she had a stern expression on her face. Directed towards me. And that makes me uncomfortable. If it was a mean face, I'd have been less bothered. Maybe tried to talk back. I was only lying down stretched across the side berth, the main berth was completely empty and she could have easily settled down there first. But then this was not that sort of a face at all. This one said that it had seen a lot, but had seen through all of that very gracefully. I really would have floundered trying to pick issues with such a face.

"I drowsed off" i said apologetically quickly clearing off my stuff.

Of course that was not the case. I'd boarded the train at Delhi and was overjoyed to see the side berth completely empty. Even the main berth had just one occupant. An elderly muslim gentleman to whom i'd quickly said my hellos. I settled down and soon made my bed, even though it was just 5 PM. I'd had more than a few late nights with work and was looking forward to sleep, getting gently cradled by the steady rocking of the rails. " A lot of Gujrati travellers in our berth- boarding at Mathura"- so informed my till then only co-passenger. Maybe indicating that my sleep preparations were perhaps a bit hasty since i was spreading out across the whole side berth. In my tiredness and anticipating the prospect of a gently rocking bed made me ignore him, saying something like "I hope they have cancelled their tickets" before surrendering myself to sweet slumber.

And here i was, being rudely awakened within 2 hrs. Whats more, as i was clearing out her side of the berth, i realized there was a trail of people behind her- all following her lead and rapidly lurching towards my berth with a minimum of 4 jholas each. A gang of about a dozen. Dressed in woolens from head to toe, with mufflers et el. Energetically chirping in a language i could barely make out. Though they were hardly inside the train, there were multiple headcounts listing kokli-ben, radha-ben, geeta-ben, leena-ben loudly underway. Being conducted by a number of them at the same point in time.

Out of the lot, the most aged were quickly sat down on available seats. They were perhaps the most agitated as well. In Mathura, for reasons best know to the railway babus there was only a 2 min stop for the train. 120 secs for passengers with trunks, suitcases, beddings etc to alight and then passengers with even more luggage to board from the platform. Anyone who's ever seen people travel on Indian Railways would say that's cutting things too short. And when its a case of 12 elderly lady teerth yatris, travelling back home with their cartons of laddu's, pedas's, and cans of Ganga Jal, it became impossible a time to meet. Geeta-ben got left behind at the platform, and Kokli-ben had to pull the chain. And the really elderly Leena-ben, sitting right opposite to where I was, got agitated and let out a loud wail when the train lurched. Of course, at the same point in time, Heera-ben, Kanta-ben and her bahu Himadri all had to try and assuage the loudly wailing Leena-ben by letting out wails even louder than her's. I was of course, fully awake by this time.

I realised the best course of action would be to settle down quietly and watch this blow over as best as i could. I was scared- just because everyone around me were agitated and excited. They were old, i was young. I could fathom no reason for their excitement. The train had stopped, Geeta- ben had easily boarded, but the headcounts were still on- the irritating assurances were still underway. I soon made good efforts to make myself as inconspicous as possible and settled down stiff on my side of the berth. But of course it couldnot last. Not when you are being surrounded by 12 agitated elderly ladies.

A suitcase was thrust on my lap. Could i adjust it under the seat? Whose shoes are those? Why are you travelling with a mango crate? Are they already done with serving coffee? Where do you work in mumbai- or are u still studying? Prism towers? Oh..my son works there..JP Morgan. Leena-ben, mujhe toh aapna beta mil gaya. What is your seat number? Do u really need those two cushions...can u pass one here? Do they serve jain food on board? Have you been using these blankets for long?

Within 10 mins, i was left the most agitated within the compartment. The ladies meanwhile had quietly settled in, and were soon at home. In between answering their questions and adjusting their luggage i realised they had efficiently allocated space amongst themselves, very civil-ly shifted the muslim uncle to the next compartment, showed the TT their tickets, taken a count of all jholas, and had now settled down to examine each other's day's shopping. Soon the compartment's atmosphere transformed into one resembling a family drawing room. Within a span of 10 mins flat.

I quickly spotted my chance and rushed to the top berth, book in hand. Surprisingly my newly discovered mothers didnot try and stop me. Lying down on the side top berth gave me a safe ring side view of the action happening downstairs. Things were getting lively. Away from their men-folk for a short while, the ladies were keen to have a good time. Himadri was incessently getting teased on receiving a call from her husband by the octagenrain Heera ben. Kanta-ben shot back by enacting Leena Ben's expressions on her wedding night- 50 years back. Sweets, farsans, and Pepsi was being passed around, and whats more, also getting quickly gobbled up the elderly gang. It seemed as if all of them were acutely aware of the fact that only for a day, they had left behind the world of their husbands, kids, grandchildrens and other's myriad concerns. Heart ailments, blood pressure, thyroid imbalances, joint pains were were also forgotten. Tonight, the life inside the compartment, alongwith their friends, was entirely their own. Maybe tonight was the kind of night for them that came only after decades. Tomorrow they return back to their apartment households in Mumbai back to their existence designed to support others. But tonight, as i imagined looking down from the top berth, all the wrinkled, weather beaten, mottled faces had a curious glow. It was excitement. More closer than that, it resembled the look on a kid has who anticipates a chance to do a lot of unrestricted mischief with friends. To be able to see that on the face of 12 grandmoms at the same point in time was a blessing.