The Mumbai local
It's been nearly half a year since I came to Mumbai - finally I'll be getting rid of the NRI tag and can register myself to vote. Politics and me definitely don't go together, but voting is something that I consider a vital duty (eventhough the people we vote for aren't even half up to our expectations...).

One other thing that I have finally gotten used to (relatively) is the Mumbai local train - the city's inevitable lifeline. 55% of its nearly 16 million population travels by train. As such it provides quite a local flavour. The fruit sellers, artificial jewellery sellers, hair clip wallas...they're all there along with the people - packed like sardines within the confines of the compartment. An awfully limited space. There is a jostle just to get a place to park yourself. When the train starts moving, the ups and downs of the journey are enough to make you lose a few kilos, provided the journey is long enough, the food in your stomach is limited and the frequency is regular. The experience is enough to erase any sense of dignity and decency you hoped to retain...because soon enough you realise that shoving and making your presence felt in order to get people moving is not a necessity, it's the norm.

Once you're there, you can ease yourself and even without any music enjoy the hum of conversation emanating from the crowd. The ladies compartment is especially a treat for the eavesdropper. After all women are known for being loquacious. There will be the women settling stuff on the phone, others gossipping about Mr X/Mrs X/Miss X from work who likes to eat up all adulation. Others talking about affairs of the heart, others texting so and so...it's a delight for the people watcher. Even the fashions on display are worth noting. From smartly dressed youngsters to suave office-goers to behenji homemakers....all sorts are there. Oh..and how can I forget the wannabes and Engrati speakers (English+Gujrati).

It's a delight...just that doing the same thing day after day can get tedious. Suddenly you're like an alarm clock waiting to buzz when it comes to catching the 9.11am ki morning local!

The Rose-tinted glasses that I wear (most of the time)
It's time to make a self-confession...I think I've been fairly well-shrouded from the naked, desperate and flabbergasting realities of life..I've seen not even a percent of how bad it can get and I'm so grateful to God for that...I don't have words of prayer to thank him/her/whoever...enough. I've been so protected that now, even seeing it on television or in the movies is nearly impossible for me. Laugh if you wish, but I couldn't even sit through Slumdog Millionaire...the scenes depicting Jamaal's introduction to the answers he knew were so disgusting to watch..(don't misintepret me, I'm not questioning the filming, just the bare truth).
Maybe I'm wrong in my view of life..I know, I can certainly get more thick-skinned. It'll stand me in good stead, especially when simple little things often move me to tears....but two decades on since I came on this planet, it feels too late to change somethings...
Actually, isn't this true for most of us? I refer to the 'most of us' who have a roof over their heads, clothes to cover their nakedness and food to feed their system. How much we take for granted in our lives...