The Virar 12 Car Slow
The city of Mumbai has 20 million people. It is bigger than 173 of the world’s countries. Belgium has a population density of 130 people per square mile, Singapore 2,535, Mumbai 17,550.
So today I made my first reconnaissance mission on the city’s commuter trains, where at peak rush-hour times more than 4,500 will crowd a nine-car train and on which more than 4,000 people a year are killed. Most die from hanging off trains and getting hit by power line poles or by trains as they cross the tracks.
The trains are utilitarian – steel tubes with metal benches; wide, open doorways; and more than a 100 handles dangling from the ceiling. The windows are open and covered with metal grating – they’re meant to move people, not designed for comfort.
It took two-and-a-half hours to travel from Churchgate station in downtown Mumbai to the suburb of Virar on the Western Railway’s slow train, a distance of 58 kilometers. Coming back, though, the first hint of rush hour started to build, and the crowds surged. As the train slows toward a stop there’s sudden violence. Men, women, old ladies, children, beggars – smiling, placid and quiet one moment – burst out of the train, hands pushing on backs, elbows pointed and flailing, and a new wave pulses in. It’s 15 seconds of intensity and insanity, followed by the quietude of the crowd that only exists in India. One person per square foot, and less. Hands, feet, arms, chins and cheeks touching you. When you get to the station you hold on, tight, so you don’t get swept out by the human riptide.
Position is everything. If you’re in the doorway, the last man, it’s as good as traveling gets – no door, no railing, a hot wind, the smell of curry and shit and smoke and rotting vegetables and dust poking every one of your senses, the teeming richness of a place so complex and deep it’s as hard to grasp in your hand as air. But if you get pushed inside, if you make a tactical error – miss a hand grip, say, or don’t push back when someone tries to usurp your airy space – than it’s all just heat and human bodies against you.
And people here do it every day, twice a day, sometimes six hours a day.
Try to Twitter from a train! And thanks for Taking us on this ride!
Another great post. I’ve always heard that people in some other parts of the world have a greater tolerance for reduced personal space, but I never fully realized that this might be out of necessity. I wonder how the women deal with this? Perhaps I am being cynical but I can’t help but think that there is some groping going on. And the possibility for the spread of disease also worries me. Keep up your vitamins, Carl. And inhale only when strictly necessary.