Maximum City, Maximum Farce

So then…Raj Thackeray gets arrested, and the city simply limps.  We woke up to sms beeps, cautioning us to travel safetly to work. My father calls up and simply asks me to stay put. My mom says, “Its better to be prudent than get harrassed”. 

Meanwhile, we have a really important reason to go out. The Asian Film Festival is on and we had to catch Climates. This despite India being on the verge of scoring a historic win in test cricket over Australia.  We have our tea, we watch the news, and wonder why the hell should we be sitting at home, missing out on things just because a goon gets arrested. 
As we come out of our home, I can feel eyes staring at us. Outside, except for medical stores, and the corner chai-tapri walla, all shops remain shuttered, and all rickshaws remain hidden. At Dadar, the scene remains the same. To Plaza Theatre’s credit, they do not stop the screenings. Though we reach late, and miss one film, we DO reach.
My father used to say that as long the trains were running, the city is not shut down. Today, the trains were running, empty, but on time. Busses were running. Empty, but on time. People did go work, banks did function, and newspapers will still come out tommorrow. So what was the fuss all about, one wonders!
Rows and rows of shuttered shops were a dismaying image. Dadar is usually choc-a-bloc with vendors. Women, men selling everything from flowers to candles to kutchi mirror torans. No one was there today. Many, like the ‘Tambe Arogya Aahar’ where we had our breakfast, functioned with half shutters. Police men and women were probably the worst hit. They might have started the day with anticipation, but soon they seemed bored, and might have been cursing the goon for his stupidity.
The best part, however, was this: Plenty of people did cock a snook at the goon and his followers, and refused to give in to terror tactics. They came out of homes, and went about their day as usual. Trains and bussed did their duty, and no one was stranded. 
Perhaps all is not yet lost. 

About whizkid

Photographer. Procrastinator.
This entry was posted in Bombay, Commuting Woes, Local Trains. Bookmark the permalink.

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