In a place so hot, wet and crowded, it is so very easy to become angry - to lose one's patience, to make an excuse for an inexcusable comment, or to forget one's humanity. However, when I pass these hot, wet, crowded roads, I rarely see anger. I see ambition, I see hope, I see survival - but anger, not so much. Maybe I haven't seen enough, but maybe I have chosen to not see what others want to. Perhaps I have chosen to pay attention to children playing in a puddle in their school uniforms instead of the irascible bus conductor. Maybe I find more fascinating the patient, aged man who sells bananas on the third cross road everyday rain or shine - not the woman who yells at me to move forward to make space for her in a train carriage already filled to the brim. Just maybe, I find my self unable to believe the tremendous amount of good that happens here on an everyday basis - not bad, as this place is known for.
The other day I was traveling to the station on a full bus - meaning the vehicle was so filled with people, that the bus conductor could not go from one side of the bus to the other without leaving the bus. The rain was pouring and everyone was rushing to close the stubbornly rigid windows making the atmosphere even more humid and stuffy. My "personal bubble" was being majorly invaded and my feet were bruised and muddy from being stepped on by the unfortunate standers being jostled as the bus moved through the conglomeration of ditches that are Mumbai's roads. I was lucky to have gotten a seat - very lucky. And then I saw an elderly man, desperately searching for a seat, so I offered him mine and joined the standing crowd.
A while ago, I was traveling to the station with my cousin. We were sitting and chatting when all of a sudden he got up and decided to give his seat to an elderly woman. His action moved me deeply - and since then, I have always made myself give my seat to someone who needs it more.
But that day, as soon as I forfeited my seat, a young man who saw I was carrying heavy bags gave his seat to me. On the other side of the bus I saw a seated, old man offering to hold a stander's infant for him so it might make it easier for him to stand and another young man behind me offering to collect an elder one's ticket for him as the bus was too crowded for the old man to walk through. And as the bus halted at the next bus stop, a new wave of passengers came in and I, along with several others, once again gave up my seat for someone who needed it more.
In that crowded bus full of strangers, I had already developed several relationships - relationships of kindness. Relationships which formed because people gave to others without asking anything back - because people still cared no matter how hot, humid, stuffy and irritating the atmosphere was.
Yes, the buses are noisy, suffocating, and a whole bunch of other negative adjectives. But it's not the cheap ticket that keeps me coming back - it's the opportunity to do for others, to make a relationship with an unknown person, to be cared for by a stranger. It is to observe the true meaning of community that I ride the bus.
When we are around so many people, we have three choices. We can do tremendous good, tremendous bad, or nothing at all. We all have equal potential to do either one of those three - but it is the side that we act out on that makes us who we are. Yes, this country has corruption - it has black markets, and piracy, and lying, and cheating, and prostitution and a whole bunch of other problems. But what country does not? With a population of 1.5 billion, there are bound to be several who chose to do tremendous bad. But riding in a Mumbai bus makes me realize that everyday, there are several people who do good - who would rather stand in a crowded bus than see an elder man do so, who wouldn't mind holding a child so a young father can stand more comfortably, who would console a fellow passenger whose child has just gone missing. I finally understand why here, in this country, the vegetable seller and the old man I gave my seat to refer to me as daughter, or why the kids call me elder sister. My relationship with these people doesn't have to be one of blood - it only has to be one of genuine kindness.
I wish all Mumbaikars would see this post. Superbly stated. [This is what Anupam Kher - I do not remember the name of the character he played - in "Saraansh" calls 'Hope'.] Despite all the chaos and darkness, this is what provides hope.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure whether I would be able to - but if you would not mind, I can check for any journalists in Mumbai to get a glimpse of this posting - so they can disseminate it better.
haha, thank you daddy! I actually have really learned to love the buses and it makes me so happy to see these sorts of things happening in this country. It really does give hope and I too wish that more people would notice and act out on it. I also really wish there was a better way to spread this message because it has certainly opened my eyes.
ReplyDeleteYour post makes me think of the dichotomous nature of India - dirty streets and immaculate houses, the loss of sense during a traffic accident yet the careful attention to guests, even strangers in one's home. In a country of intense colors, smells, traditions and values, I've found the polarity of things fascinating.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you fully that I haven't seen anger as a motivator behind even the most extreme of actions. I learned this lesson while working in the remote village block of Kotra on Gujarat/ Rajasthan border. The first drive there we were warned that robberies happen often on the single road leading in and out of the area. Further, that we were not to be out alone in the evening. It scared me. So, of course, I took the necessary precautions. I also tried to figure out why people, who welcomed me into their homes and embraced me with their eyes, smiles and selflessness could be so dangerous. I discovered that, though not excusable behavior, the men who were robbing and attacking were not doing so out of pleasure, they were doing it because years of hardship had modeled for them that this was the only way to get food for their families. In a place so remote and so tribal I still didn't see anger behind the actions. I saw survival.
Thanks for making me think about this again.
Karishma,
ReplyDeleteI am from Mumbai too and i can visualise everything that you said about Mumbai.
Thanks for seeing the greatness in my City,my home.