Trains: The new shopping stop

 

 

Kids eye the Santa with awe, and they desperately want to believe in the old white-bearded man with a bag of goodies.

 

Fascinated, my five-year-old son wanted to visit everyplace Santa visited this Christmas.

 

During one such visit he was thrilled when a ho-hoing Santa extended his hand for a shake.

 

My son was ‘maha’ thrilled and extended his hand. But, soon his expression changed into a frown and he said, “Santa’s fingers feel like human. Why?” At a loss for words, I wondered if I should tell him the truth or keep alive the Christmas spirit?

 

— Manisha Singhal, Powai

 

 

Trains have become moving supermarkets. You can find anything your heart desires on Mumbai’s local trains. Everybody knows you get everything, from fruits and vegetables to jewellery, toys, saris to household utilities like toothbrushes and scrubs. And if you’re hungry after all that shopping, call out to the vendors who sell delicious food like idlis, dhoklas, samosas, chips and bhel, which will definitely satiate your appetite. Nowadays, the latest issues of women’s magazines are also available at throwaway prices. Once I even spotted a woman buying underwear on the train! Recently, I found the most interesting object for sale on a train - a copy of Graham Green’s  Loser Takes All, and that too for Rs20 only! What next?

 

—Priyanka Kamble, Bhandup (E),

 

 

My brother’s job is such that he can be transferred anywhere in the country. Once when he was posted in Pune, his colleague, a Punajbi officer approached him, and asked to borrow some salt. He said: “Can you please give me some salt? I have been all over Pune asking for namak, but they say that they do not have it. I wonder how people cook here.” My brother gave a hearty laugh and said, “You should ask for ‘meeth’ (Marathi for salt) He replied, “But, sir, I am a pure vegetarian. I do not ear meat!”

 

—Kusum Doshi, via e-mail

 

 

Coming from Nashik, where rickshaw meters don’t work and passengers are literally taken for a ride, I have already developed a healthy respect for Mumbai’s rickshaw drivers, who dutifully return every single penny owed. This respect increased manifold on Thursday when an honest rickshaw driver returned my cell phone. Bumpy roads near Upper Govind Nagar at Malad (E) had ensured that my mobile phone fell out from the pocket of my track pants and onto the rickshaw seat. I missed a heart beat on realising that my phone had disappeared.

 

I began thinking of starting the procedure of blocking my SIM card and registering an FIR at the police station. However, in a last ditch attempt to find my cell phone, I decided to call my phone, hoping against hope, that it won’t be switched off (At time, when a phone is stolen or lost the finder throws the SIM card away).

 

Hopefully someone would answer the call, and I would be able to convince that person to return my precious phone to me. My phone rang, and to my surprise, I someone answered! To my amazement, the person said that he was waiting at my building gate, expecting a call, so that he could return the phone.

 

I could barely hide my excitement and rushed down to get my phone. I profusely thanked the rickshaw driver and handed him a Rs50 note. I discovered that he was happier to get Rs50 than I was to my cell phone back. His touching words perhaps summed it all. “Babuji, hum bahut garib hai,lekin imandar hai.”

 

—Dhananjay Khadilkar, Vile Parle

 

 

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