Commuting Blues and Greys, and PYT Speaking into Cellphone

I wasn’t prepared for it. I was caught unawares. These things happen; well they do, only in morning rush hour in Bombay. I have travelled in public transport in Delhi, Bangalore, Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Jeddah, Colombo, but have never been made to feel so humiliated and angry.

The train pulls up at Andheri station. I am standing at the door, holding the ------ about to get down. Now it’s the international norm that people disembark and and then people embark. Instead, a horde of hooligans dressed in the most decent business clothes buffet me from all sides, pushing me, shoving me, treating me like a twig caught in a raging stream. Imagine my plight as I got trod on, kicked, pushed, yes; they even spoke ugly words, so full of venom, which I can’t repeat here.

Mercy be, when I caught my breath, all I could say was mo********ing bas*****. Yes, that’s what they were, undisciplined, uncouth, uncivilised, in fact, un-everything. It’s surprising how brutish people can be, especially in Bombay’s public transport. I have travelled a few countries in the world, and even travelled in the Delhi metro, but I have never seen such barbarity being displayed to get a seat inside the train. If this was what was beneath the veneer of civility they put up, I have grave doubts about the much-taunted epithets of “resilient”, “friendly”, “welcoming” city of Bombay.

Ahem! Ever been caught behind a PYT talking into her cellphone headset with a mike to her lips. It can, oh God, be so very disconcerting to be behind this female specimen chattering about which train she boarded, what she ate, what she did to that guy, what she intends to do to that guy, what makes her sooo very angry, etc.