The travails of Mumbai's Campa Cola society in Worli continue to make headlines. When officials of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) finally arrived to demolish the illegal floors, one resident called it the "second Jallianwalla Bagh". A bit excessive, you'd think, given that the residents knew they were buying illegal property. The real marvel is that the society has stood for close to 30 years and it is only now that action has begun to be taken.
One wonders, though, why it took residents so awfully long to make alternative arrangements. It can't certainly be for want of funds; Worli is the poshest real estate address in Mumbai after south Mumbai. It is highly improbable, if not impossible, that residents living there are not rolling in money. Why not buy something up north, a little further yes, but legal?
A friend who grew up in Santa Cruz recently disposed of his flat for Rs 4.7 crore, and used the monies to buy a villa in Solapur and an apartment with two bedrooms, hall and kitchen in Dahisar, right north of Borivali. The amount was nearly equally split. The traditional Western line finishes at Borivali, but the rates here have risen so fast in the last couple of years that anyone looking to make an investment in the Mumbai real estate market must only choose the Thane district, which begins beyond Dahisar. Of course, the Western line is not the only line that's expanding. Suburbs on the Central line, such as Mulund and Thane, are now vibrant resident agglomerations.
Part of the charm of living near the south is the considerably less travel time. A friend who recently shifted out of the Bohra-Muslim neighbourhood in Grant Road to Bhayander is already contemplating shifting back because her travel time has more than doubled. Even as newspapers report the gradual shift of the commercial district from Nariman Point to Bandra Kurla Complex, the truth is that most people still travel to the south for work. Indiabulls' sprawling complex in Lower Parel is the heart of Indian banking, with the head offices of several private banks, such as IndusInd and HDFC, located here.
Given the sluggish pace of infrastructure development in Mumbai (the first phase of the Metro, which began five years ago, will be finally commissioned next month), the local train (henceforth "local") continues to be the only viable travel option. To long-time Mumbai residents, the local is as familiar as vada pao. But to outsiders, it makes for a humbling learning experience about how different this megalopolis is from the rest of India.
There is the famed efficiency. You never have to wait for a local for more than four minutes. If you miss one, there is always another one coming. The time displayed at the platform, otherwise a myth-making structure in India, is accurate to a T. Hundreds of services ply all over Mumbai every day, spanning three different sectors: Western, Central, and Harbour. Yet the locals criss-cross the city at surprising speeds.
Even inside the local, there is plenty to glean. During rush hours, there is just about enough space to keep body and soul together, yet it is not uncommon to see people appropriating just that extra place between the elbow and face to shove in a newspaper. Aloof youngsters listen to music through headphones as big as their faces, and sundry hawkers sell their wares with remarkable persistence. It's as though the local traveller rouses the Zen inside him and shuts everything out.
It's not all pretty. There are the stories of aggression one hears about the women's compartment. Apparently, seats are "reserved" with a flicker of the wrist or a movement of the eye. If a woman has made a deal to sit at a particular spot from, say, Bandra, going north, and a wide-eyed girl takes her seat at, say, Mahim, all hell breaks loose. There's not just jostling and jabbing but, I am told, there's the pulling of hair and even, in extreme cases, the throwing out of the offending party's stuff.
Given all this and the fact that it is virtually impossible to commute in Mumbai without using the local, it is hardly surprising that south Mumbai residents would rather "die at the hand of the brutal administration," in the melodramatic words of a Campa Cola resident, than shift northwards. Who, in their right mind, would want to face the terrifying prospect of boarding the dreaded local?
Wrong. Unexpectedly, Mumbaikars share an almost devotional relationship with the local. Yes, they fight for seats, outsmart others for a chance to stand at the door, eke out that little overhead space to deposit their bags, but never, ever complain. The government keeps making promises in its infinite wisdom. Now there is a proposal to develop an air-conditioned corridor from Churchgate to Virar. (Experts say it may be more suited to the Central line.) But the nonchalant Mumbai resident lives one day to the next, channelling his inner Zen, oblivious to his own miseries.
Disclaimer: These are personal views of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect the opinion of www.business-standard.com or the Business Standard newspaper
