Enough

Trains are the lifelines of Mumbai, where people from every walk of life adjust, make space for everyone. What makes this city unique is that no one complains. May be they’ll grumble and mutter obscenities under their breath but just will not talk about what is bothering them, because it is bad manners to complain. Aaighaalya and bhenchod will rattle the headboards more than the bumpity bumps of empty local trains. Patience is a virtue. Adjusting is yet another one, which does not come to all. Resilience and patience, even in the most neck-breaking crowd inside a train, is the mantra.

Smelling armpits, dirty feet sliding down your trousers as they meander towards the door to get down at ‘aapla stop aala.’ Well, the spirit of Mumbai. Ho hum! Enough. Mixing the ubiquitous tumbackoo and chunna with the thumb of one hand pressed into the palm of the other, letting the lighter elements fall into your sandal, through the gap of your toes and shoving the ‘tonic’ between the lower row of teeth and the lip, haven’t we seen it a million gazillion times?

I have had enough of this bath towel-between-the-collar-and neck middle class. It is no point telling anyone what to do. No one wants to hear you. Who you? Enough of rubbing shoulders with the common man (read, peon at Mantralaya, office assistant of PWD Chief Engineer, driver of shipping corporation manager.) Stock of patience, over. Being stoic, thing of the past.

No more strutting around penniless. No more waiting for 'we'll let u know'. No more adjusting (read, getting a sore leg and a shoulder wet with the adjacent person’s sweat) to make room for the fourth person. No more. No more. Had enough. Time for a change. Time for a game plan.