Realities of the Virar Local - North is north, South is South

It’s 6:30 PM. Dadar station. The usual madness. Yet another crazy hour in the train. Catching a Virar local is out of the question. So it’s the usual “return” route for me. Some people might question the logic of going all the way back to Churchgate from Dadar, but if that’s the only way I’m going to get a seat, so be it. Hop into the first class (like that will make a big difference in peak hour) and grab a window seat. As I am initially heading to Churchgate, I decide to sit opposite the direction we are going. I turn around and find this group of gentlemen chatting loudly. They are regulars you see, all part of the return gang in an effort to avoid the insanity of the Virar local. Invariably, we start chatting. "Never seen you around", they say. Probably because I get into another compartment. We talk about the travails of going return. Why they couldn’t add extra trains on this route. The over-bridge at Dahisar that is always crowded. The water problems in Mira Road. The roads of Bhayander. However, when asked where I live, ever the privacy freak, I gave a rather vague answer. Seeing they seemed a little let down, I answered rather lamely, "I’m going to Churchgate like we all are." And this brought about a steady round of laughter. Like that would ever happen. And then, the barriers broke down. We spoke about travel, about politics, about Mumbai and its issues. They enquired about my family, my career aspirations and pretty much my whole life. All in the barely 20 minutes it takes to reach Churchgate at that time.

You know what they say about how our trials bring us together. And how travelling by Virar local is nothing less. And how, these regulars become one close well-knit family. So there we were, like close buddies, all headed to the madness of Mira Road, Bhayender and beyond. And just when it felt like this journey would never end, along came Churchgate. I was already hanging out the door. Presumably, to check if it was a Virar or Borivali. “Virar Hai” I shouted loudly as the crowd on the platform prepared to jump on even before the train pulled in. I got off like most return guys do to grab a breather. “Don’t worry!” the fellows signalled to me, we will save your seat. Hold our ground against this wild horde for our comrade. And then………….it happened. I started walking away. “What are you doing?” they yelled. For God’s sake he didn’t have to head away for food and drink. We can share with you, they thought. But there it was, the moment of truth. Or, the moment of betrayal. You see, I NEVER INTENDED TO GO RETURN. I don’t stay in the suburbs; I stay in Churchgate, my final destination. As I walked away, the truth finally dawned upon them. Why they had never seen me before. Why I was sitting on the “wrong” side of the window. Why the evasive answers about where I lived. I didn’t look back for fear of seeing the hurt, the betrayal in their eyes. For fear of hearing them shout, “WHY? GODDAMIT WHY? Why the lies? Why the emotions? Why the pretense?” And I wanted to shout back, “Because just for once, I wanted to belong? To be a part of the family? To know how it feels to make life-long buddies? To not be singled out as a south Bombay brat, but a genuine member of aamchi Mumbai? Is that so bad?” But I didn’t of course. Hell, they wouldn’t have heard me over the all that noise that is so typically Virar local.

I left the station, tears flowing down my cheeks. I knew now. I didn’t belong. Churchgate and Virar don’t mix. East is east, West is west. Or perhaps in the case of Mumbai, North is north and South is south.

(In my defense, I do spend an hour in the train travelling between Vikhroli and Churchgate)