Yatrigan, Kripya Dhyan De

Once upon a time in Mumbai, a boy came to Mumbai, like a lot of boys, to see Mumbai, the city of so many dreams running hither and thither, every day from 6 am to 6 am.

He was a village-born, newbie to the city. He was surprised to see people up and running without using their legs, inside the train.

People cutting vegetables, reading a book, ears clogged or snoring. Why wake up only to sleep on the train?

There was a stylish hero with glasses on, fit young and handsome. His right hand carried a long jhadu, his body carried a pressed, stain-free brown uniform.

He looks like he must know the town. Should I ask him? Wondering, he got up only to be interrupted by another decent-looking man. “Are you new here?” he asked him midway. He replied in the same position with his seat up in the air, knees bent, about to squat back down to rest on the local ki chair.

“Yes.”

“Actor ban ne aye ho?”

“No. I came to see Mumbai”. Perhaps, there were too many stars in my eyes.

“I don’t know where to go, brother. What do I do?”

“I’ll show you, my city. After all, you are new here.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“I was once new too.”

Someday, if someone from outside, an alien comes to my village, I may say the same thing. That thought made me feel good about the world and my actions.

“You look like a good human being, brother. Thank You”

The stranger took 2 tickets at the next stop and I trailed behind him like a child, scared but curious.

I had only heard of Mumbai, seen it in films and restaurants where Amitabh Bachchan sings, “Sahib ne bulaya… lo hazir mai aaya.. hun yaaro ka main yaar… dushmano ka dushman!”

This city welcomes everyone. The local was pushing and pulling in turns, dictated by the arrival and departure of the population of Mumbai, all excellent people, using each other’s feet to move inside the now slowly moving train, and the ones left behind were rubbing their feet as they watched the train disappear in the wires and sky above.

We got down at a station, came outside. A lot of goons were walking about, cooking mutton and God, I mean Allah knows what else…

“Where have you brought me?”

“You want to see Mumbai right, don’t be scared, I’ll show you around. Come on”, saying that, he took up my bag.

I tried to stop him from taking my property. But now, the good-looking gentleman suddenly did not feel like one.

This was Masjid Road, I read in my peripheral vision as two muscular, long-bearded, kurta-wearing bouncers approached.

“I am done for! God, I am done for!” I thought as I meekly requested the stranger to leave my bag.

“What’s going on?” the two men asked us.

The stranger answered, assuming himself to be my friend, “Nothing, I am his friend.”

I corrected his notion. And looking at me, then at him, the two asked him to leave. Something about their no-nonsense approach or faces made him obey.

Well, they are goons. Makes sense, I thought.

“Who are you?” they now interrogated me.

“I am new to Mumbai. I came to see this city but this man brought me here.”

It is always better to admit your mistake. And I was scared.

“You want to see Mumbai? We’ll show you, come.”

Imagine my manly fear here, I was walking between 2 orthodox lookalikes in a new city, with a small 2g phone carrying about 6 phone numbers. It was 2010.

What’s the worst you can do, dear god? Let’s see your path for me today, and I walked upon it towards the station once more.

At each stop, I looked out secretly, checked the what you 2023 people call, “vibe” outside. A lot of safe-looking crowd went by and how I wished I could get off there and mingle with them instead.

“This is Churchgate, last stop.”

“Come on,” said the 2nd stranger as he moved towards the gate. I got down and waited for them to say something.

“Life me apna rasta khud dhoondna padta hai. Daro mat.” Saying so, they escorted me out of the station and into Mumbai.

And they left.

I saw local hawkers selling clothes, I bought some, ate, strolled around and asked around for travel options to my village. One of them guided me the route to the bus stand. I walked to the bus stand, took a bus and came home.

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