7.30 p.m.
Monday, 16.11.2009
Central Mumbai
"Phod Dalega, Saala. India Se Baahar Phenk Dega Tere Ko, Ra*&wa Saala."
Roughly translated, sans the unparliamentary expressions, it means, "I'll bludgeon you... will throw you out of India."
Travelling in the comfort of an AC bus -- a newly launched government service that many of us here have found to be a god’s gift to our battered souls – we were startled to hear these words yesterday evening.
On an average day, Mumbai's peak-hour traffic is anybody's nightmare.
Taut nerves. Frayed tempers. Edgy people.
In these conditions, people take to fracases and altercations like a chain smoker takes to a cigarette after hours of abstinence.
The frustrating traffic, the stifling train crowd or the desperation to get home as early as possible – any or all of these in various combinations could be the spark that sets off ugly face-offs and, sometimes, brawls.
So, under ordinary circumstances, we in the bus should have forgotten the incident within minutes and gone back to observing the madness just outside on the road from the cushy closed confines of our bus.
But that was not to be.
I could sense a vague uneasiness among passengers following the vitriolic comments.
The incident that sparked the furore in one of our fellow travelers itself was forgettable.
As we approached King’s Circle in central Mumbai’s Matunga locality, vehicles struggled to move at a snail's pace.
I don’t know what exactly happened. Suddenly we heard the bus driver arguing with a biker. Within minutes, a few passengers were already by the driver's side trying to defuse the situation and prodding the biker to move . Hell, we didnt have time to indulge in silly heated exchanges.
But before we knew, an elegantly dressed Maharashtrian burst forth with his acerbic verbal diarrhea, part Hindi, part Marathi.
Besides getting the message from the angry shoving of hands and irritated facial expressions, I am sure the biker, who had a woman – presumably his wife – riding pillion, didn’t hear a word of what the bus passengers were. We, inside the bus, too knew that.
Yet, a strange uneasiness crept into our minds once this madman began venting out his hatred.
That hatred was focused. It was not the hatred for the chaos . It was not the frustration of a man stuck in unending lines of vehicles.
It was purely and unabashedly aimed at the biker. At his white skull cap. At his flowing beard. At his wife’s black burqa.
It was aimed the Muslim. The “other”.
"Phod Dalega, Saala. India Se Baahar Phenk Dega Tere Ko, Ra*&wa Saala."
The rest, spoken in Marathi, was clearly was aimed at everyone else. Every non-Maharashtrian.
Am I losing hope?
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