First things first. The title is a straight lift from a regular column in Mint. And plagiarism ends there.
After driving to office all this while in a car, I am now back to Mumbai’s lifeline – the suburban rail. I am a firm supporter of public transport. Even those days when I was driving my car, I preached about public transport like a hypocrite.
I have resisted the trains all along. The fear of getting thrown out and into the train mercilessly was not easy to deal with. Coming to Mumbai in 2004, I looked for a place to stay so that I don’t have to rely on train for my commuting. That was contrarian. For the first three years BEST buses, rikshwas and taxis met my transport needs. There was not even an intention to buy a personal vehicle. It was parked for some time later, when we move out of Mumbai. But a few months back, a change in job and a default hike in salary made me succumb to the temptations. Wants suddenly became needs. The summers appeared more sweltering. Buses looked more crowded. Rikshaws became jerkier and taxis more expensive. And I committed for one more EMI payment. I had my car.
Much petrol has flown under the hood since then. Statistics show that over 2 lakh more cars got added to Mumbai roads since then. My average time on road increased from 1 hour in a day to 2.5 hours. Back pains gave me company during those 2.5 hours and even later.
And one day I decided that I deserve a better life. A suburban train pass now jostles for space in my wallet along with a few currency notes, a few plastic cards, and a bunch of visiting cards. I now spend a little over an hour commuting, including a share in cabs and rikshaws. Climbing railway overbridges four times a day also makes me a little more physically active.
I now get to see real people every day. I get to hear vigorous arguments about dropping Shewag from the team. I get to listen to anxious remarks about Reliance Power shares. I see people cribbing about their jobs and bosses. At Dadar flower market, where I get a cab, I see variety of colourful flowers every day, and equally or more colorful men and women in hurry. I see small traders on flyovers selling hundreds of wares and thriving in chaos. I see toddlers begging and scrambling for strewn food. And I wonder about our own cubicle talks in cosy offices about not being happy with 25% increment in salaries.
And I walk. With my feet firmly on ground.
Life is better. Atleast till the next Mumbai monsoons.