Mumbai will have a Metro

At least that is what I heard on the news recently. Apparently, some politician woke up one fine morning on his "official" visit to Tokyo, had a look out of the window and saw - millions of Japanese people commuting to work. Actually, he did not see a million, I guess his estimate was off by about a few thousand. That being besides the point, I digress, he was amazed at the capacity of the local metro trains. They were full to the brim, which reminded him of the local trains of Mumbai and this of course made him so nostalgic that he had to order Indian food for breakfast. He skipped his usual sushi - imagine what the love for the country can make these men of stolid (or do I mean solid?) character do! Amazing is the word that suggests itself immediately to the mind.

Anyway, so the hero (Huh?) of our story thought, "That's a swell idea! Why not have a metro for Mumbai? That way, we will still have people who are hanging off trains, but the trains will be faster! That probably means that more people will fall off them! A solution for the population crisis of Mumbai? No, wait. I can't use that. Some of them may be from my vote bank. No, no. I must think of something else to promote the metro. I must take care of my minority. Ha! I can cite the example of the Delhi metro and how well it is functioning! I don't know if it is functioning at all. I never got a chance to ride it, what with my constant Europe and America trips and the usual delay in the flights that forces me to use my private chopper to commute from the Mumbai airport to my residence in Colaba"

So, with this thought in mind, when our hero returned to his homeland (Arkansas, USA) he made an urgent call to his deputy and asked him to fix up a meeting with Mallika Shararat. No point in going ahead with a project without celebrity backing is a famous motto of the Maharashtra politburo. I am unsure about the arcane reason subjacent to this old rite, but there you have it. No new project can start without the blessings of these almighty deities. Look at poor Amitabh having to plead (yes, plead) to the people of UP (actually, the whole nation) to give their children the vital polio dose so that they can live unhampered and better lives. I don't see the purpose behind this. I think the reason is that the noblesse oblige forces the men in power to rescind any plans that do not have celebrity backing. So, we have famous people endorsing all sorts of government plans, right from the mid-day meal scheme for children in municipal schools to setting up shops selling china ware in local... oops I mean the metro trains. The shopkeeper will be one harassed fellow:

"Dekhne ka paisa nahi hai bhai. Dekho magar pyaar se. Abe motorman, gaadi theek se chalaa! Mera saara maal..." (Sound of all the china crashing in the background)

Anyway, the plans for the metro for Mumbai have apparently been given the go-ahead, subject to the arrival of a few khokaas at the respective residences of the respected politicians. The point d'appui for the selection of the metro seems to be the convenience it will furnish to daily commuters of this city. Not to mention the convenience of the men in power. As long as the voters are happy, they can happily volplane their ways towards their respective "khursis"

For some serious thoughts about the implications the metro will have on the city, you are requested to go Here.

Inebriated - not totally enough!

I was at the happening do of the evening. Its my avocation to attend parties to get away from my usually hackneyed existence in the multiple states of my mind. Call it escapism or whatever you will. The truth remains that after a few swigs of the good stuff, I am closer to the planet earth than I can ever hope to be when I am sober.

Anyway, so here I was, attending what was claimed by a leading daily to be the party of the day : not party of the week, party of the month or the millennium. Just party of the day. It seems that when I was sleeping away to glory, the city of Mumbai suddenly chose to don a new avatar : something that has made me feel out of place ever since I have been in demand as the most sought after humour columnist in Mumbai. You didn’t see that one coming, did you? Regular readers of my other blog will have thought that one of my other personalities, which is involved in the spawning of really and truly mind whirring and soul stirring stuff had taken over this blog. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is none other than yours truly, the booger man, penning his random musings.

So, anyway, I was at this party and I had had some drinks. I am sure that I hadn’t downed more than a few (seven) pegs of vodka martini (made in the new Bond style), a few pegs (large ones) of rum here and there and then of course, there were the tequila shots. I don’t like overdoing things. I am a man who believes in spartan living. If you come to my twenty roomed bungalow, you will see that it has no major luxuries other than the centralized air conditioning, hot water taps in all bathrooms, fully stocked refrigerators and the three plasma television sets that I own. A very down to earth person, who believes in a minimalistic existence, is what I am. After the drinks, I was feeling particularly ebullient, though I hadn’t the slightest notion why. I chose a corner and made myself at home there.

I am blessed with good hearing ability. My eyesight isn’t what you would call great. I would probably need binoculars to read the writing on the wall. Not that there was any writing on any wall, but I realize that the phrase is just a metaphor. I have long since earned the sobriquet of BB - which is short for Big Brother. At least that is what I tell other people. I am sure there is another full form for it, of which I am unaware and I choose to remain so. Anyway, sitting on the couch that I had made myself at home, I could hear people at distances of, and I don’t want to appear as if I am bragging here (I am of course bragging, its just that I don’t want to appear as if I am doing it!), but I could hear, correction, overhear people who were sharing secrets at the bar stools. The bar stools were as far as three thousand seven hundred and ninety six millimetres away from me. I am sure that you have begun to get an appreciation of my special auditory abilities. However, due to my state of beatitude, I was only able to make out part of what I was hearing. I was unable to fixate my attention anywhere for longer than a few seconds. Here is what I heard:

“And then when he gets to the bathroom, there is a crescendo in the background score, and when he opens the door…”

“Wham! Sachin had hit Pollock for a four through the covers. What a beautiful shot it was! What timing! I can still visualize his shot, what with my eidetic memory serving me so well…”

“… so well that I had to sell all the lingerie I had ever purchased for my girl friend. The new ones I have got her are terrific, they…”

“… they are like these huge covers for the humongous material that lies beneath. These are made of a special rubbery material that has the natural texture and feel of a…”

“Hippopotamus. That is the animal that needs to be christened the king of the jungle. And that is not just because of its sheer size. I believe…”

“… that its posterior could do with some make-up work. Its not everyday that you plan to rebuild a derelict. And when you do so, it should be done properly. Not as if someone woke up in the middle of the night…”

“… and I had this terrible urge to go to the bathroom myself. I could still recall the scene from the movie and ergo, I was a bit apprehensive about what was subjacent…”

“… to the lingerie. I am sure that once they get the solution for that problem, males all over the world will rejoice. The job of unhooking lingerie…”

“… will no longer be like trying to get a Hippopotamus out of water. That is what people say when they have to signify the difficulty of a task. Little do they realize that all of the Hippo is not fat…”

“… In fact, in the unlikeliest of places, you are bound to find the rubbery material. Once this has managed to hold on to the substrate…”

“… all that remained of the guy was the bloodied hand. And in his hand he held…”

“…aloft the bat and saluted the crowd. I was overjoyed. Its not everyday that you get to see a special Sachin half-century. You need to be blessed…”

“… to be able to unhook the brassiere. That will no longer be the bane of males. This will help them shed all inhibitions and also promote…”

” … the reduction of avoirdupois, which is a principal problem in these days of obesity”

I couldn’t take any more of it. This had to stop. I had to do something to stop all the nonsense talk that was going on around the party. I had to make the people realize the futility of it all; I needed to make them aware that they had become impassible and that they needed to show more empathy and compassion towards this world than they did now. I had to… fall asleep. Really! That was all I could do after getting an overdose of lingerie that hippos would wear on their backside so that derelicts could be lit up for celebrating Sachin’s century!