Aarey: Paradise Lost

If you are the hardcore Mumbaikar, or any city dweller, for that matter - How do you feel... 
... when you look at lush green foliage covering the land - fifty shades of green so thick - you really don't know whether there is any ground underneath there...
... when you smell in the fresh unadulterated air and wonder, can the air be that sweet?...
... when you feel the cool breeze caress your skin, soothing away the summer heat...
... when you hear the sweet melody of exotic birds chirping and the tree leaves rustling as they commune with the breeze...

That is Aarey for us, the Mumbaikars of the western suburbs. That feeling of being free of the fetid air, the dirt, the crowd, the noise, the traffic, the concrete and cement under the feet and towering high above. The feeling of being one with Mother Nature. If only for a while...

Born and brought up in Goregaon, I have always had a special relationship with this special place - a relationship that spans more than one generation in our family.

When I was a kid, my Dad, forever a nature enthusiast, used to take us to Aarey. 

No surprise there because we stayed in Goregaon West - and Aarey is just a few bus stops away, or a few minutes long walk (if you don't mind a little exercise). My mother worked in SEEPZ. She commuted via the BEST Bus through Aarey every day. My Dad, out of love for the Nature, used to go on long walks and treks into the very heart of the woods. So Aarey was always a familiar spot to us.

It might sound uncool in today's age, but Aarey was our de facto family outing spot.

We used to take long walks, via the back roads that are now so well known to bikers and cars that sadly peruse them to circumvent the traffic on the main road. Back then, these back roads, on which are located quite a few "tabela"s, were used only for Dairy transport. People, old and young, used to take long walks here. The road takes a serpentine route upwards through grassy glades and overhanging tree boughs thick with green foliage, till it reaches the New Zealand Hostel. Back then, there used to be a secluded area of walking tracks just before the Hostel. It was started and maintained by a group of walking enthusiasts, I think. The tracks were always kept neat and tidy. There were trees planted at regular intervals that afforded shade throughout the day. It was frequented daily by Joggers, walkers, kiddies, oldies, pets, strays, birds, wild life, you name it. There were a few benches, where oldie-goldies used to get together and chat. It was truly a community space, by the people and for the people.

There is a beautiful quaint temple in there - the Gaondevi Devasthaan - of Goddess Durga. We all visit so many famous temples and religious sites thronging with devotees. But being here, away from the turmoil of the city, with hardly any crowd, just sitting in this holy place smack in the lap of Mother Nature... This experience really redefines spirituality and makes one aware of being one with the eternal power we call God. We still visit here to pay our respect to the Goddess.

We used to sit by the lake which now goes by the horrible name of "Chotha Kashmir Boat Club". There was no boating here at the time. I think it was a kind of nature reserve used only for fish farming. At the time, the lake had platformed terraces on either side with a couple of stone benches where we would sit and silently soak in the sights, the sounds, the refreshing silence... We used to watch the beautiful canopies of surrounding trees stoop low enough to kiss the tranquil face of the water. How many of you are acquainted with the beautiful sight of huges green tree canopies reflecting off the almost crystal clear water that's full of tiny speckles of reflected evening sunlight? The birds would fly off or fly in to sit on the expansive ancient giant trees that surrounded the lake. Apart from their chirping and the occasional passing vehicle on the nearby road, all was silence and peace...

Chotta Kashmir (we used to call it O.P. - for Observation Post - don't know why they called it that) used to be a cool place full of lush green lawns of grass and colourful flowers and plants, made so famous as backdrops in eastman-color-picturized songs of a bygone era.

There was the Picnic Spot, which is now a dilapidated long forgotten place. I remember, one year, they took our school picnic there.

Did you know there was an unofficial back entry into the Film City somewhere nearby Aarey Dairy? My Dad took us there a couple of times. One time, I got to see the temple with the famous sideways steps, they regularly use in movies. There is a beautiful lake at the back of the temple. Another time, he took me and my sis along a road within the Film City which was blocked off (He always seems to find a way to get in to such places). He said this used to be a cement road constructed by the British who originally established the Aarey Milk Colony (Did you know its a "Milk Colony"? Sadly, many only know it as the perennial respite from the traffic on JVLR and WE Highway). He said it goes all the way to Mulund / Thane. And it connects with another similar road that goes straight into the national park and joins up with the road to Kanheri Caves. (Yup. Its all connected, the giant Lung of Mumbai (at least it used to be). All you need is look it up in the Google Maps.) He said they closed off the road after operation Blue Star when there was a rumour that a couple of Khalistani terrorists had infiltrated the area using that road. So off we went, and soon we were surrounded by the thick of the jungle. As we walked on, a jeep came by and stopped. I was scared. Were we in trouble with the authorities? It turned out to be forest officials. They told us that coming here was forbidden. One may only enter after seeking proper permission from the forest officer. They took us in the jeep and dropped us off where we had started. They also helpfully informed us that its forbidden not because of leopards, but because of monkeys, who appear to be more dangerous because they attack in packs. Ain't nature grand in all its savage glory?

Later they made the now famous Royal Palms area there. While this new construction blocked our secret passage into Film City, we used to visit the Golf Course they had constructed there. The lush green lawns of well-maintained grass going up and down was a source of unending awe and entertainment to us Middle-class folks. Until, they destroyed it and built buildings there...

We always used to frequent the New Zealand Hostel. Yes, you heard the name right. Apparently, some important official from New Zealand had inaugurated the place. Its a hostel for people who study Animal Husbandry (I think; one of the students we met there told us this - at the time I was seriously contemplating joining a course within Aarey Milk Colony... Was I simpleton or what!). We used to stop there during our frequent walks. Behind the reception is a water fountain - our thirst-quenching saviour at the time. When no one was around, we used to sneak behind the Hostel. The view afforded from the back lawn of the Hostel is breathtaking. The hostel is located above a small hill. From it's back side, one can see the rest of the hilly terrain of middle-aarey (sounds like "middle earth"?). On the opposite side, one sees the giant clock over the Aarey Dairy. One has an unhindered view of the hill's slope and the little valley between the hills. If you visit here right after the rainy season, the little valley is a giant bowl of lush green treetops. Come summer, the green gets interspersed with orange and red of the Gulmohars and other similar colourful trees. Weekends would find cricket matches being played on the ground outside the Hostel. There are an old set of steps that lead down from the ground, with a dense grove of Nilgiri trees on one side and the slope of the hill on the other. At the base is an old open theatre, which is no longer used, I think.

If you continue downward along the road outside the New Zealand Hostel, just before the Poultry Develoment centre is a depression in the land besides the road. During summer it becomes a ground for Cricket Matches. Come rains, it turns into a lake. Sometimes, after monsoon, its surface is covered with lotuses. The locals pluck and sell them there. Did you know, during monsoon, especially during Shravan, the locals from the adivasi padas in Aarey come down to the local Goregaon market to sell locally grown vegetables? The veggies, especially the seasonal ones, and the cucumber they sell are so fresh and tasty that we always end up buying stuff only from them during the monsoon season. If you happen to step off and go along small tracks in the woods, you may stumble upon an adivasi settlement - a collection of small quaint huts and little cultivated patches of earth. I am not sure these settlements still exist today. But I did happen to stumble upon a couple of them during those childhood treks with my Dad.

Further down the same road, you reach the entrance to Modern Bakery. And as soon as the side road ends and you cross the main road, there is the entrance to the Government Bungalow area. This is another beautiful place; the winding road leads up to a beautiful bungalow located above the hill. This is reserved only for high ranking government officials. Though the entry here is restricted for outsiders, we did manage to convince the caretaker to allow us into the lush gardens surrounding the bungalow a couple of times. There are also weekend cottages nearby for commoners like us, though we never got to visit them.

Our nature excursions into Aarey continued till I was a student in college. Then I got a job and my relationship with Aarey underwent gradual changes. For a while, I used to visit here with a chaddi-buddy of mine. We used to cycle or drive upto one of the secluded back roads early in the morning and then do some brisk walking. I was surprised to see so many young and old people come here even at this early hour of the day. Most of them dressed in walking gear, huffing and puffing, taking in the fresh natural air that's so rare to find just a kilometer away from there.

Then I switched jobs and started working in the SEEPZ area, and my relationship with Aarey changed again. I started taking the BEST Bus from Goregaon East Bus Depot to BSES Power bus stop (Now Reliance Power, or should I call it Adani Power?). From there I used to take a small track that led past a tabela straight to the JVLR opposite SEEPZ gate # 2. The ride through Aarey was convenient and fast. Not to mention oh so refreshing! Do you know the feeling of entering the Aarey during summer in a crowded bus? You are sweating and hot. And suddenly the temperature drops by atleast a few degrees. There is breeze in the air. The breath is effortless now - full of a fresh zing that only a natural wooded habitat like Aarey can provide. They used to levy tolls to enter Aarey at the time, so traffic was light. The bus used to pass through a long perpetual tunnel made up of tree trunks and green roofs. It was therapeutic, that ride through Aarey.

Then, 4-5 years back, they stopped taking toll charges. And all hell broke loose. Many used to complain why they levy toll when the roads are always in a bad shape? My reply was always - to keep outsiders like us out. The road through Aarey was never supposed to be a major traffic artery. And tolls used to keep most of the traffic at bay. But when they stopped taking tolls, the Aarey main road became a noisy thoroughfare with traffic snarls, incessant honking pandemonium, unruly rash driving, and it all kept getting worse day by day. It was a time when people were earning well, thanks to the IT boom, and vehicle loans were cheaper than Home loans (have always been I guess - sadly). The number of vehicles shot up exponentially during the first decade of the new century, and they kept growing into the second one. The Andheri Kurla Road was perpetually jammed thanks to the ongoing construction of the first Metro in Mumbai. All of this contributed to heavy traffic jams in Aarey during peak hours. The Aarey Colony, once so notorious for instilling fear in the hearts of drivers at the thought of driving through it past evening time, now saw traffic even at late night hours. I switched to commuting via train to Andheri and then by bus to SEEPZ.

What once used to be a part of the massive "lungs of Mumbai" - that stretch of green patch stretching from Goregaon all the way back to SGNP in Borivali, and from there, to Thane and Mulund, is now being destroyed in the name of Progress and Posterity. Aarey is not alien to encroachments. What was once a colony of adivasi padas, dairies and associated institutes later saw encroachment by illegal construction and colonies of the poor migrants (there are huge communities of south indians there now, and some north indians too). Later, local politicians shamelessly grabbed land under the guise of building public facilities like gardens and gymkhanas (just have a look at the now dilapidated gardens on either side of the entrance of Aarey). There was rampant encroachment behind Nagari Niwara (near Film City), where now stand tall and proud glass commercial buildings. Just go to your building terrace (if you stay in Goregaon) and look towards the hills that span Aarey. You will see the ugly gashes on the faces of the hills where the hills themselves have been excavated to make way for new construction. Then there is the Royal Palms, an ugly blotch of cement and concrete right in the heart of Aarey. I think they were given permission to construct only because they were planning a Golf Course. However, soon the Golf Course was replaced with so many residential and commercial buildings.

And now, this land of the trees and greenery and wild life, of serenity and fresh air and nature, is about to be razed for the Metro 3 Car shed.

Development has to happen. And when it does, there is always some collateral damage; the existing needs to be destroyed to make way for the new. I get it. But progress comes at what cost? Is the New really worth destroying the Old?

For years now, I have inculcated a habit of sowing the seeds of fruits we eat, instead of throwing them in garbage. What I noticed was that, of the tens of hundreds of seed you sow, only a few handful would take root. Of those few handfuls, only a few shoots would successfully grow into saplings. And of these few saplings only one or two plants grow up and survive for a year or so. Some saplings die out. Some get afflicted with disease or are destroyed by pests. Of the thousands of seeds within the hundreds of fruits that a tree manages to bring into this world every season, only a few survive. Of these, only the strongest are able to grow up and become full grown trees. Its a struggle for survival by the strongest of the lot, that takes years and years before we have a full grown tree, the likes of which are now being cut down in Aarey. All those trees are the successful and strong survivors which managed to grow up through years and years of struggle with the elements. And all this glorious natural flora will soon be lost to the inexorable march of human progress and avarice. 

The officials claim that they will replant the trees they cut. But how many such replanted trees will successfully survive to grow up into full grown trees that are capable of replacing the trees we stand to lose today? 

And what about some of the trees that belong to the indigenous species which are probably rare and native only to the Aarey area? They will be lost forever, won't they? I don't see a plan by the MMRCL for cultivating the trees of the same species. Their plan deals only with numbers, not with quality, neither with the type of trees they plant.

And most importantly, what about the life-giving oxygen these trees afford us right now? How much time will it take for the newly replanted trees to grow up and start giving the same amount of oxygen that the big trees in Aarey used to give? No one has an answer to this. For all the arguments and pros published by the Metro office in full page newspaper ads, I am sure they have no comparative study to measure the loss to the environment in these terms. Nobody gives a damn. I remember a futuristic video where the air is so polluted that humans need to order personal oxygen/air cylinders (delivered by a drone!) before venturing out into the harsh atmosphere. I think, with this kind of "Vikas", that day in not far. I am sure big companies already have a plan in place to mass-produce cheap oxygen and sell it at exorbitant rates as, just like the internet today, Oxygen will become "the next oil" of the future.

Many argue that the Metro would help reduce the number of cars on the road, thus justifying the razing of trees. I beg to differ. I remember when Metro 1 started, the ever-crowded Andheri-Kurla road suddenly went empty! But after the first few weeks, when the metro fares were raised, it was back to business as usual. While Metro 1 did improve the traffic situation on Andheri-Kurla road, you will still notice traffic snarls in quite a few areas. I used to work in JB Nagar, right next to the Metro station, at the time. And after the Metro started, commuting became quite convenient for us. Yet, so many people who came to office by cars and bikes continued to do so. I had colleagues who would still prefer auto-rickshaw rather than rely on public transport, including the Metro. The only impact was to the BEST buses between Andheri and Ghatkopar / Kurla, which now find less number of patrons than before. So the idea that Metro is supposed to reduce the Carbon footprint is a misguided and over-hyped concept.

If it is about the cost of the project which is why they want to build only in Aarey and not in any other place, then how do you calculate the cost of breathing problems to the future generations? What is the cost of loss of flora, and the loss of home for the fauna in Aarey? My Mom recounts one time many decades back, when she got to see a leopard cub in Aarey. It was sitting by the road, so clean and beautiful. It was startled by the noise of the bus but stayed put. It did not feel threatened, neither did the people on the bus. Wild animals don't attack unless they are hungry and desperate. Unlike us humans who hold no life sacred.

If one thinks of simply relocating the green patch that will be lost in Aarey - recreating a new green patch elsewhere - then this is an utterly quixotic wishful thinking. Just look at the so called "green patches" and "open areas" that the municipality has already constructed within the city. No trees of any consequence grow there. Small saplings, gardens (vertical or otherwise) and cultivated plants are no match to the giant old trees that grew up naturally through decades of natural selection process and the virtue of survival of the fittest, in Aarey.

I mentioned earlier how other areas of Aarey have already been misused and encroached upon in the past - like Royal Palms. But that does not give an excuse to continue to do the same for the Metro, does it? When did two wrongs make a right?

I agree that Metro is the need of the day. We need better infrastructure to support the ever increasing population of this city. But the Metro carshed could always have been built elsewhere. Why destroy the ecology of the Aarey Milk Colony? What legacy do we leave behind for our children - Air-conditioned air of the Metro train, or the natural air of the Lung of Mumbai?

The harsh reality of the impending destruction of Aarey sinks in, when we notice that what was once a patch of green on the Google Maps, now shows up as a normal land mass. But the shock only registers when one sees first hand, the destruction carried out by the Metro authorities during the few hours before the SC brought a stay on tree-cutting. The land looks so bare!

Making way for a carshed in Aarey is not a legal issue. Rather its a moral, ethical and environmental issue. Today, I feel so sad that my kids and grandkids would never know the natural splendour that was once the Aarey Milk Colony. I feel so bad for the loss of the next generation who did not see and experience what I had the fortunate privilege to make a part of some of my best memories. I feel concern for the shape of the environment we will be leaving behind for them.

Looking at the way the authorities handled the current situation in Aarey and literally squashed the protests, one can be sure that whether any one likes it or not, the Metro carshed will get constructed in Aarey. Stopping tolls in Aarey was the first step; Metro carshed was the next. One can easily extrapolate that soon Aarey will be opened up for building construction. The main road will be widened and will become a major artery to feed that ever-hungry perpetually-growing monster - the metropolitan traffic. And Aarey Milk Colony will become a dim memory, soon forgotten.

This is my attempt at penning down that which was, that which has now been lost, and that which will soon cease to exist in the near future...

Reality bites

Accepting Reality is like eating bitter gourd.

Its too big and cumbersome to swallow whole.

Either you chew it and swallow it down in spite of it's bitterness.

Or you spit it out and choose to live the life of make-believe.

Or (and this is a most common recourse), you simple ignore it and go on living in your shell.

Luck is a meandering feather

Sitting in the bus. Reading a book. I don't notice it. Not until, floating leisurely, it appears right there in front of me. 

Its so small. A brilliant shade of pure white. Its a feather. A very small one. Never seen a feather so small. Smaller than the protruding tip of my finger nail. Its floating around right in front of me, riding the wind that's flowing through the moving bus. 

It moves towards me, then gets sucked back towards the window, then it swirls around uncertainly until the wind pushes it nearer to me again. The book forgotten, I trace its quirky, leisurely and uncertain movements. Will it get sucked out of the window? Or will it zoom into the bus right past me? 

Finally it approaches me tentatively, like a shy damsel. Its been moving this way and that, as if it's uncertain whether I am safe enough to approach. Finally, ever so slowly, it settles down on my sleeve. 

For the longest time I keep staring at it. So white, so beautiful. Its every fiber accentuated in the bright morning light. I suddenly have this irresistible impulse to touch it, to feel it, to hold it on my finger tip. To put into my pocket, safe from the wind outside - to possess it and make it my own, this little miracle of nature. 

So I move my hand, finger stretched. And as I am about to touch it, it lifts up. At first, almost reluctantly... It lazily swirls around on the eddies of the wind currents. And then is quickly swept away from me. I try to follow its erratic path, but its already lost, merged into the various colours that surround me. 

It's gone. Just like that.
 
As I mourn the loss, I can't help but reflect: Isn't Lady Luck just like that feather? So beautiful, so pure, she visits us and sits on our shoulders, as we bask in her glory. We are mostly unaware of her presence. And when we do get aware of her, and as soon as we try to possess her, she will leave us to find another unsuspecting fool to bestow her blessings upon... Just like the little beautiful feather...

Reflections about Life in a Metro City - on New Year's Eve

The Helpless

I failed to notice his affliction mostly because he had his head tucked down between his folded arms, over the backpack resting on his lap. That, and the fact that I was too preoccupied trying to secure a seat for me and my wife.

It was 31st Dec. New years eve. Late in the evening. We were out on our way to Marine Drive... We had caught a fast train from Andheri. My wife accompanied me into the Gents Compartment. Usually the local trains are too crowded and so my wife, like so many daily lady commuters, prefers the safety and solitude (from us Martians) of the Ladies compartment. So we are both unused to having her travel with me in the Gents section. But the desire to spend the last few moments of this special first year of our marriage in each others company was too strong.

As we got into the gents compartment, my first priority was to secure a seat for both of us so as to spend the better half of the next hour comfortably together. I spied a vacant slot and rushed in before someone beat us to it. That's when I saw him first...

Mumbai local trains have 3 seater seats on either side of a central longitudinal aisle. Each 3 seater can accommodate 3 commuters comfortably; 4 with a little adjustment. Usually, during peak hours, it does occupy 4 people with the last one having to adjust on half a vacant seat... The spot that I had zeroed in was the 3rd and the 4th seat. Seat 1, the window seat was occupied. The guy in question occupied what amounted to half of the 2nd seat and half of the 3rd - with space to spare on either side - but not enough for anyone to sit... Like I said, he had his head tucked down as if he was dozing. I asked him to please shift a little so that we could have the 3rd and 4th seats. My wife said that we could move inward where there were single vacant spots on opposite seats. But by that time the guy, with somewhat reluctance, had shuffled inward vacating the seat for us. I quickly sat down, then moved inward snug against the guy in order to make room for my better half. She sat down besides me somewhat reluctantly.

After a while she whispered to me - 'can we move to the back of the compartment?' 
I asked - 'why?' 
'The guy has chicken pox', she said, pointing to the guy besides me. 
Without looking at him, we both got up and moved to the back of the compartment. As we sat on opposite seats, I looked back at the guy and sure enough, he sported the telltale brown spots on his face. In my haste I had failed to notice them. My wife being a doctor had been quick to recognize them for what they were.

He got down at Grant Road. Was he heading to some new year celebration, I wondered, that too in this condition? While it looked like he was well on the path to recovery, chicken pox can still be contagious in that stage. But I had noticed him carrying a ragged backpack, the kind that many Mumbaikars prefer while commuting daily to office and back. His clothed were sweaty and wrinkled from a full day's hard work. And he sported the resigned and tired look of a work-weary employee, who, after an arduous day's struggle, was looking forward to a simple meal and a restful sleep.  So my guess is that he was on his way home, back from work.

By all rights, he should have been home resting and recuperating, not out and about spreading the contagion. And it is my guess that he would have stayed home if he could. But many a times, we are hardbound by circumstance - destined to do fate's (or boss's?) bidding, sometimes against our will - irrespective of whether we are fit enough to do it or not. More so when we live in a cut throat overpopulated city like Mumbai where the only law that prevails is the survival of the (economically) fittest. As we hurtled through the last few hours of the year that would be no more, riding on the train that is the bloodline of Mumbai, I visualized the City as a giant machinery - churning out economic progress - powered by the sweat, blood, dreams and aspirations of millions who crash and burn daily here - lighting up its skies like new year eve's fireworks.

The Lonely

New Year's fireworks... That was what we were busy ogling at when the old man first drew my attention...

We had reached Marine Drive only to find it crammed full of people - like ants inside an ant hill... Forget about sitting, there was no place even to stand. People were sitting, standing, milling around, hollering, having the time of their lives... How were we to find a modicum of solitude in this pandemonium? And yet, as we stood around looking at the sparkling fireworks and the beautiful phantom blobs of floating lanterns over the dark sea, the noise and the commotion all got tuned out. It was just the two of us, engrossed in the fireworks, wrapped in our own virtual cocoon, oblivious to all other similar cocoons around us.

As we stood there on the ledge and watched the celestial spectacle, I felt someone tug urgently at the bottle of water that I was holding in my hand. I had bought it at a Railway stall and it was half empty. I looked down at the guy sitting on the ledge besides where we were standing. He had now stopped pulling at the bottle and was looking at it hungrily. The light was too dim and at first I thought it must be a beggar or, even worse, some drunkard... But then the guy looked up and our eyes met. 

He was an old man, frail, with white tufts of hair on a balding head. He wore spectacles and well worn old clothes that would never pass as the latest and the best in fashion, but looked decent enough. For a while I looked into his eyes - there was request there, and dignity enough to not let that request turn into pleading. I offered him the bottle. He uncorked it and gulped down a healthy portion of the water. He must have been really very thirsty. While he drank to his fill I looked around for whoever was accompanying him. Apparently he was alone. He handed me back the bottle with thankful eyes. Not a word passed between us. And yet as I retreated back into our own cocoon, I couldn't help but think about the lonely old man and wonder what he was doing alone out so late on a night like this... 

Another paradox in this City of Paradoxes: Here we were trying hard to find some solitude. And here was this old man, surrounded by so many people, and yet utterly lonely... It is only in cities like Mumbai that one can be so alone even when among so many people... Some people pine for solitude here. While loneliness is thrust upon some...

On the unique relation between Onions and Humans

Day: Sunday. Time: Afternoon. Place: the Kitchen

Me and my better half are busy cooking. To be more precise: she is cooking food. I am cooking her brains.

She is cutting onions. Making fine long slim slices. She is crying. And me too.

That's when I make an observation: कान्द्याचा आणि मनुष्याचा किती गहन हा संबंध पहा. कांदा कापतो तेव्हा मनुष्य रडतो (Strange is the relation between onions and humans. When we cut them, we cry...)

And to this, she says: आणि कधी कधी कांदा विकत घेतो तेव्हा पण... (And sometimes (we cry) when we buy them too...)
(Referring to the occasional spike in onion prices)

Kismat Konnection

Do you feel that you are really Lucky?

Not many would answer in affirmative to this question. For it is either the nature of humans that they never feel they are lucky enough. Or it is the nature of Life that it will never give one an opportunity to feel that way. Or both.

If you feel that you are really lucky, then - Lucky You!!! Cherish your blessing!

But if you feel you are not really that lucky, that things never come as easily to you as they do for some lucky souls, then hold on... Here is a thought for you. What if life, or destiny, or fate, or God, or whatever you choose to call it - what if it gave you difficulties in life solely based on your inner strength and your ability to cope with it?

If that was true, then, the fact that you mostly face difficult situations in life means that you are internally strong and capable enough to face them and surmount those hurdles. It means that you are stronger than the "Lucky" people you might so envy...

This also means that, when faced with difficult situations, you should not give up easily (which does not mean you should never ever give up, because wisdom says that it is important to know when to really give up as against when to keep going). Because, the fact that life / destiny / God put you in this difficult situation means that it deemed you capable enough to face that situation... So don't give up easily. Chances are, you are strong and capable enough to come out of the bad situation with flying colours...

Can the Lalbaugcha Raja controversies be avoided? - my humble opinion

Every year, Lalbaugcha Raja, the most famous Sarvajanik Ganapati Mandal in Mumbai, attracts some controversy or another. This year was no different. Today, I stumbled across a shocking news article claiming that a Woman was thrashed by lady cops at Lalbaugcha Raja.

The article shocked me because I had an entirely different experience when I visited Lalbaugcha Raja this Saturday (26/09/2015)

To set the record straight, while I am a devotee of Ganapati Bappa, I am no big fan of the Ganapati Festival. The ecological impact of it is against my ideologies. And it is my personal belief that God is omnipresent. I believe that my prayers will reach Bappa, whether I pray to Him at Lalbaug, or at my home. So I have never ever been to Lalbaug. But this year, my wife, a devout believer of Lord Ganesha, really wished to visit Lalbaugcha Raja. And as every married man will tell you, no ideal, however strong, can hold sway against the wishes of one's better half.

So we decided to visit Lalbaug this year. I had already heard the horror stories - long queues, 5 to 8 hours waiting time, hordes of devotees, unruly crowds, arrogant organizers. So I was very apprehensive. Especially because my mother decided to accompany us. She suffers from Arthritis, and I was not sure how she would be able to cope with the long wait and the huge crowds.

We got up at 4:30 am, left home by 6:00 and reached Lalbaug by 7:00. Asking around for the way to the Mukh Darshan Line, we were directed through a cordoned off area by helpful police officers. We were all in a haste to get into the line quickly, and in that haste, my mother stumbled and fell. Before I could even lend her a helping hand, we were quickly surrounded by 3-4 policemen (including lady constables), some fellow devotees and few organizers. With all the helping hands and encouraging words, my mother was soon back on her feet. A policeman vacated his seat and asked my mother to please take some rest. An organizer pointed me to a direction at the back and said they had first aid available there. But my mother would have none of it. Holding her and walking slowly, we joined the Mukh Darshan Line. As we made slow but steady progress, the giant statue of Ganapati Bappa soon came into view, with the morning sun streaming down it's golden rays from above the pandal roof. I am no religious person but it was a sight to behold.

The Mukh Darshan line (or lines, for it was like wave after wave of people) was crowded, but organized and calm. People were taking photographs of Lalbaugcha Raja. And there were shouts of "Ganapati Bappa Morya" every few minutes.

We got the Darshan in 15 minutes flat! A lot of people who visit Lalbaug every year, claim that we were very lucky indeed.

And now when I read the news article today, I wonder what went wrong. I found the policemen and the organizers very cooperative when we visited Lalbaug. Why would they be so rude to this lady?

The video shows only what the police did to the lady. It casts no light on what instigated the police to be so harsh with her. If one reads the article carefully, it clearly states the police version of the story: "The footages which have gone viral show only one side of the story – what happened inside the gate. But, in her attempt to get inside, Goswami misbehaved with those cops. She had been threatening them that she is a black belt in karate and had been abusing the three women constables constantly. So, the three women cops got angry and took her to the police station."

So the woman was rude to the police. But that does not give them the right to man-handle and assault her? As Mugdha Kapoor states in her article "Nothing, absolutely nothing, gives the cop the right to so brutally thrash someone." I would have completely agreed with her, but for my better experience at Lalbaug on Saturday.

Please bear with me for a while and read on, before you troll me. Lets look at it from the point of view of Police and the Organizers.

They are working around the clock, under severe pressure, day in and day out. Their orders are clear. Avoid any mishaps, accidents and threats. Its no small responsibility. The Wikipedia article about Lalbaugcha Raja claims that "over 1.5 million people visit this Ganesh Pandal daily". If this figure is to be believed, it means that on an average, nearly 62500 devotees visit every hour (taking into consideration all 24 hours of the day), i.e. about 1042 devotees every minute, i.e. about 17-18 persons visiting the pandal every second. Considering that it takes about 3-5 seconds to take Bappa's Darshan and move on, the organizers are tasked with moving away 52-86 people every 3-5 seconds. This is no joke. It is an organizational and security nightmare. We are aware that fatal accidents are common due to panic and stampede at pilgrimages and religious places. Happens every year someplace or the other, not only in India but throughout the world. The policemen and the organizers have the massive task of avoiding such a mishap. While we are busy enjoying the festival, these guys are tasked with long and tension-filled duties. Under such pressurizing circumstances, frayed nerves can lead to violent reactions. 

That does not give them the right to raise hands on the common man. I agree. But as the article states, the lady misbehaved with the police. The video does not show what the lady said that incited such violent reaction from the police. But the pressure under which they are working, they are bound to snap some time or another. I understand that standing in line for hours and hours, watching VIPs getting preferential treatment, can be a very frustrating ordeal. Which is probably what pushed the poor lady to be rude and abusive with the police constables. But standing guard over such a huge crowd can be a very trying ordeal too. As Lee Child says in Nothing to Lose: "A crowd (big enough)... was the largest animal on the face of the earth. The heaviest, the hardest to control, the hardest to stop". And the police and the organizer have to deal with a massive, sometimes unruly crowd every day for 10 days. Can we claim that we have never snapped like this in crowded local trains or buses? It is human. As human as the lady getting angry after a grueling long wait in the line. 

When we visited the pandal, it was not very crowded (comparatively speaking). So the organizers and the police were at their best behaviour. If the crowd is small and manageable, then even these public and voluntary servants will be able to give their best.

I am not condoning the assault done by the Police on the poor lady. But all I am saying is they are human too and such things happen. It is not entirely their mistake. It is also the mistake of so many devotees that visit the pandal every year.

If you are a devotee of Ganapati Bappa, please pardon me for any atheistic comments that follow. But is it really mandatory to visit Lalbaugcha Raja every year? Is it not true that Ganapati Bappa resides in the heart of every true devotee? Then why the insistence on visiting Lalbaugcha Raja every year? If you visited one year, then give it a pass for 2-3 consecutive years. Let other newbee devotees enjoy the Bappa's darshan with lesser hassles and under better conditions. It would be a great act of charity on your part and would really help out your fellow die-hard devotees of Lalbaugcha Raja. It would also help the police and the organizers to better serve and manage the crowd if it is smaller in size. If everyone follows this simple rule, then I hope and feel that Lalbaugcha Raja will not be a center of controversies that it is purported to be every year...