(A version of this was first published on NewsYaps)
The Bombay local is a fascinating place. It does a great job
of bringing us closer to humanity—a lot of humanity when
you’re travelling during rush hour. And it makes you appreciate the important
things in life like...air, or deodorant.
It also, sometimes gives you an interesting close-up (some
would say too close) of life in urban India and its peccadilloes.
Here’s an account of an interesting exchange I witnessed
this morning.
During rush hour, space is low and, as a result, tempers
often run high. In the bogie I was in, two people (I’ll call them Manjrekar and
Sharma) got into a short altercation. Manjrekar chided Sharma for being a space
hogger. Interestingly, he spoke in Marathi. No matter the language politics
which surrounds the issue, in Bombay the lingua franca is unequivocally Hindi. In
the public spaces of the city, Hindi is the preferred and indeed only medium of
communication.
Either Sharma was the quiet sort or maybe he was penitent (because
he might have actually been at fault), whatever be the reason, he chose not to
say anything in return. This lack of response was clearly unsatisfactory for
Manjrekar who was in the mood for a bit of scene. He turned to his friend, who
we’ll call Tendulkar, and complained loudly about “people like Sharma”. Again
in Marathi.
“People like this, think they own the train. They’ll just
climb on and take up so much space.”
Tendulkar, who clearly had
some strong views about the evils of space-hogging himself, nods and, just to
make sure his opinion has been recorded, looks back at Sharma and scowls.
Manjrekar also looks back at
Sharma and says, in Marathi: “People like these need to get off the local and
take a cab. They’re better suited to that.”
In all of this Sharma
remains quiet. Sharma is dressed for office, by the way, and is wearing a
neatly pressed checked shirt and formal trousers. He’s carrying a black leather
laptop bag in this right –hand. From his right breast-pocket snake out a pair
of white headphones which now lie around his neck, unplugged from his ears. He
wears a pair of expensive, rimless spectacles, which seem horribly unsuited to
the hustle-bustle of the local.
This Gandhian lack of
response on Sharma’s part now gets Tendulkar’s goat. This time he talks
directly to Sharma. He says, in English: Shouldn’t you make
space for others when you’re on a train? Other people need to get on and off
too you know!”
Before Sharma has a chance
to reply, Manjrekar addresses Tendulkar. Irritably he says, “Why did you have
to speak to him in English? Speak to him in Marathi!”. In Marathi, of course
Tendulkar, replies: “Yes,
yes, I just thought...”
“Thought? Thought what? Get
rid of this slave mentality. If you can speak to me in Marathi why did you use
English with him?”
Sensing weakness in the opposing
camp, Sharma at last found his voice.
“I know all the languages.
Talk to me in English, Hindi, Marathi, whatever you want”, he boasted...
in Hindi.
Unfortunately, by now the
train was pulling into Tendulkar and Majrekar’s station so maybe because of
that neither of them attempted a response. Anyway, by then, the main target of
Manjrekar’s ire seemed to be Tendulkar for his faux pas of switching languages.
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