A chamber orchestra concert compelled me to take my first train ride into Mumbai proper. I was fortunate to be escorted by an experienced train traveler — a fellow teacher at the school named Christine. Christine teaches music in the elementary school. We were joined by the secondary school band and choir teachers, Mike and Lisa. We began our travels via rickshaw. One pair tailgated the other as only two people — at the most three — can fit into a rickshaw. Somewhere along the way, we lost Christine and Lisa. Mike and I arrive near the station, but the surrounding area was so crowded that the rickshaw driver let us off down the street. We navigated through an intersection, past a row of furniture shops, and crossed the street again. Christine and Lisa soon joined us. Their rickshaw had braved the traffic and conveniently dropped them off directly in front of the station. Huge crowds of people lined up (yes, there were actually queues!) to purchase tickets. We bypassed the lines, however, since Christine already had purchased ticket packs and distributed two tickets to each of us. We maneuvered ourselves to the opposite side of the entrance to stamp each ticket with the date and station name in order to validate the tickets. The stations remind me a bit of Chicago’s “El” in that one must follow twists, turns, ups, and downs to get to the correct platform. We climbed the stairs, turned left, turned right, and descended another set of stairs to arrive at the Central line into town. There are “slow” trains that stop at every station and “fast” trains which only stop at the big stations. We were able to board a fast train since we were headed to the end of the line.
We traveled second class. Actually, we traveled down to Churchgate on the luggage car. I wouldn’t recommend this during the week, but it happened to be empty on this Sunday afternoon. The most noticeable difference between the classes is that first class seats have cushions whereas second class seats do not. There are also “ladies only” cars. While these are sometimes preferable if you are a lady traveling alone or during rush hour when the other cars are so full you can’t easily get on or off, I’ve heard stories about the women being quite territorial. Those who regularly ride the cars have “assigned” seats. If you sit in “their” seats, they tell you to get up. Of course, I haven’t witnessed this myself yet. The only time I traveled in the ladies car, the ladies were very kind and helpful.
The cars are open and the slums beside the tracks are clearly visible. We also passed by Dhobi Ghat where dhobis tirelessly pound the dirt from garments while others bath nearby. As we made our way into town, I had a great time decrypting the station name signs. These are in Hindi and in English, but since I am studying the Hindi alphabet I read the Hindi signs first, translated them, and then read the English. I now can decipher “Churchgate,” “Dadar,” and “Bandra” quite well!
In twenty-five minutes we had traveled what would have taken more than an hour via car. We disembarked and exited the station, turned right down the street and came to a Baskin-Robbins sitting by the ocean on Marine Drive. We turned left and walked along Marine Drive to the National Center of Performing Arts, a complex of several buildings where a variety of visual and performing arts events are held. I was rather hungry when we arrived so I immediately made my way to the refreshment counter where I purchased a samosa which I gobbled up before the show began.
The orchestra included members of the Indian Chamber Orchestra, the military, and guests from the UK. They played mainly Mozart with a bit of Verdi thrown in. It was enjoyable, but not outstanding, though the auditorium was full and the audience receptive. My favorite piece was the encore played by a Japanese pianist. I will probably never hear it again as it was written by a Japanese composer and I didn’t catch the name of the piece. Oh, well.
After the performance, we strolled down Marine Drive, this time walking along the sidewalk beside the ocean. Even as droplets of rain sprinkled down on them, couples embraced, kids competed in a mock relay, and others milled about socializing with their friends. We soon arrived at Churchgate station and hopped the train back to Bandra. We sat among other Mumbaikars who conscientiously warned us of our approaching stop. I am not sure whether this was because they didn’t want us to miss it or because they couldn’t wait to take our seats. Sometimes the crowds rushing onto the car prevent passengers from getting off, so we needed no urging to make our way to the exit a stop early to position ourselves strategically. Despite the Bandra Fair attracting large crowds from the outskirts, we all disembarked successfully.
