THE FIRST & SECOND CLASSED POPULOUS

The British seem to have introduced class divide in India. I have my doubts. Going by the way, we travel in Mumbai in cramped trains; I believe the greater divide rests here. The city just doesn’t fail to surprise me every time that I hop onto one of those trains. After I make my way in, I repent my decision of traveling in that certain class. The divide begins here and promises never to die or diminish.

Local trains, considered the lifeline of Mumbai are segregated into first, second and third class. While I am pretty comfortable with the first two, the third one stands for the luggage or the vendor coach. This is no different coach but a part of any of the coach we travel in. Entering into one of these is perfectly suicidal, if you plan taking a morning train down to suburbs from Mumbai CST. Because during this hour, not people but fishes of every big and small varieties travel in these compartments. They are preserved beneath thick layers of battered ice and stored in round bamboo baskets. They travel under tight security, provided by the accompanying fish selling women and the porters who will drag the baskets down the compartment once the train comes to a final halt. Being the third class, no one is generous enough to take a ride in it. In fact, these compartments emit a strange stink for the entire day. Sometimes, they stink of fish, sometimes sweat and sometimes beetle stains left behind by generous travelers.

Next in the category comes the second class. This class outdoes every other class in the train. In these coaches travel the hardworking populous. They aren’t strugglers but potential achievers. They speak the local lingo. They are crowded with secularists. There exist no distinctions on grounds of caste, creed or sex. Birthdays are celebrated by distributing potato stuffed and steamed samosas and thirsts quenched by extra bottles of water carried by fellow travelers. Ladies are offered seats on priority basis. Their cleavages are gaped at with special fervor. Seats are abandoned on a station to station interval basis. Abuses are hurled without any reservations, reluctance or rigidity. This is the class of complete equality. Like they say, “In Gods eyes every one stands equal”. The second class is available to both males and females. Every day millions cling out of the doors and also the windows of the second classes. Every single moment two trains pass each other. All one can hear of during those magical moments are cat calls from gents compartments piercing the atmosphere and entering straight into the ladies compartment of the opposite train. If lucky, one can also take the liberty of making lewd gestures. Then there are ‘Me also Tarzan’ moments. Desperados can be spotted jumping over roof. Records show that every day major accidents are caused when one of those jumping jacks fall off the train’s roof or get electrocuted. But who cares, this is Mumbai that never fails to celebrate the undying spirit of life.

First class is the only compartment, which pretends to stand out. The first classes have been in the recent times stripped of their privileged status. Day by day with the increasing pressure of population in Mumbai, people are highly in favor the first class rather than attempting to sweat it out in a clumsy second class compartment. The ladies first class compartments have still maintained their uniqueness. The men might have silenced their resistance but women in Mumbai are hell bent not to allow their privilege to be taken for granted. There is no scope left for second class travelers to even land up erroneously in one of these gifted compartments. And if they manage, the women travelers make it a point to yell at the peak of their voice exclaiming – Arey yeh first class hai, special dibba (this is the first class, a special compartment). Every morning, it is an adventurous moment to see the women pour into their a little bigger than a pigeon’s hole first class compartment. This is followed by a strange gesture of pointing finger guns at each other. These gestures are necessary to understand and gauge the time each lady passenger would need to occupy a seat. This practice is religiously followed in the second class ladies coaches too. Some women, even though dressed well prefer to sit down rather than wait endlessly for a cushion seat.

Men on the other hand in first class are the breed that God might have developed to represent the real class divide. Conversations are scarce. Expectations of occupying a favorable seat always remain unfulfilled. The movement is very rigid. Strange looks are exchanged if appeals are made to demand a seat. Sometimes laptops and most of the times a game of cards festoon the not so plush interiors of first class compartments. Most of the communication is done through eyes and expressions. Still travelers who travel in a group are ending up creating that little bit of never heard noise in the first class compartments. Unlike ladies first class, there are no finger guns pointed out here.

In Mumbai’s first class gents’ compartments, one thing that every one dies to be a part of is the video coaches. All second thoughts of getting to see video must be trashed without further consideration. These video coaches are those which are an open window partition between the male and female first class compartment. Millions of love stories have taken place over these single windows. And definitely the same windows have ended up being reasons of lust worthiness. Newspapers have carried out articles on wrong conduct and incessant teasing of women by white collared men. This doesn’t mean that the women are less generous. Sometimes gestures and expressions made by men meet with equal amount of good response from the fairer sex.

Today therefore Mumbai stands divided. This is a city, which might be categorized in many different classes. But when a bomb explodes or the motormen go on an indefinite strike, the class divide disappears. Differences are buried down and the city springs back to action. Crisis management techniques do come easy and a tough night of terrorist attack is also dealt with gutsy attitude. Maybe that is the reason, Mumbai goes to sleep terrified. The night grows darker and murkier. And then the sun wakes them up to live a new life. Once again, Mumbai gets ready to stand divided into First and the Second class. But the journey is a kaleidoscope of what is known to the entire world as Mumbai Magic!

Just another way to say, Mumbai is still the best city in this world and continues to stay at its prime 24x7.

- vociferous