Time to go beyond a one-track mind

As the country hails the opening of a world-class railway station, our sutradhars wonder if their rain-ravaged counterparts in Bombay will ever get a look-in as unforgiving, rainy spells continue to torment the city

Pheroze, is that you in the black raincoat? I hope it is, else it would be a shame if I came to the Cathedral to meet some random stranger in these unsafe times,” shrieked Lady Flora. Thankfully, it was Sir PM Mehta. “It’s me, Lady. Please don’t use that awful pepper spray like you did the last time you weren’t sure. My trademark rainwear should be an instant giveaway. How many times we’ve had to cancel our evening plans. It’s been relentless for us Bombaywallahs…” Sir PM trailed off.

“And quite tragic, too, with the deaths and damage to property. The script seems so predictable. If someone like me, a keen observer who, sadly, has no power to ‘turn the tide’ – pun intended – can guess the areas in the city and the services that will get affected whenever the rain gods go into overdrive, why can’t the civic gods create a permanent master plan to counter these unfortunate annual losses and inconveniences, Pheroze...?” she asked her friend, quickly adding, “Look at the plight of our railway tracks and stations – the so-called ‘lifeline of the city’. They should stop calling it that; it’s a joke.”

Both friends were sipping on hot chai within the dry, safe confines of the Cathedral as faint light from the stained glass offered some respite. The continuous pitter-patter that echoed from its cannonball-proof roof made the scene a tad dramatic. “If I might ask…why did you say that it was a ‘joke’?” Lady Flora replied, “Haven’t you heard? A new world-class railway station was inaugurated in our neighbouring state, complete with all kinds of amenities, a first for any Indian railway station. Meanwhile, our railway stations remain underwater every year? Very unfair,” she thundered.

Sir PM was impressed. ‘Not only does she get the news updates in our city but she now has sources in other states, too,’ he whispered under his breath. “Gargoyle was there. He heard about this gigantic, glitzy makeover, and wanted to see for himself. After all, as a key resident at India’s most famous railway terminus, he wanted to know what the hullabaloo was about, and if it would rival his home’s stature,” Lady Flora informed in her usual know-it-all-demeanour. Almost by coincidence, Gargoyle showed up as the two friends partook in their second round of milky tea. “Ah! There you are, my friend. Tell us all you saw during your weekend trip; of course, not before drinking some tea,” commanded Lady Flora to their friend, who was expecting this.
 
After having settled on one of the wooden benches inside, he said, “Yes, it was quite something. There was theme-based lighting, spacious entrance lobby, a centralised AC waiting lounge, plus the structure also has waiting seats for nearly 400 passengers at the platforms itself. Needless to say, it’s where I spent most of my time observing this new ginormous site. Plus, they even boast of a five-star hotel attached to the station,” Gargoyle carried on as Pheroze and Flora caught on to every word. “Must be quite a sight?” Sir PM enquired. “Oh yes, state-of-the-art, they call it. But I am more worried about the state of my heart. I hope their plans for my grand home are on track, and with the right kind of expertise to ensure its heritage origins are not tampered with. For too long, I’ve had to silently witness awful tampering of the original essence of the terminus in the name of conservation efforts or overhauls of this UNESCO World Heritage Site. Remember the tacky redoing of stained glass work and façade detailing by the ‘experts’ not so long ago? And I don’t get the usage of this oft-heard term in development plans – ‘heritage feel’. What exactly does it mean? Heritage is not created; it is a piece of history from another era, and must be restored to its original avatar. Simple.” Clearly, Gargoyle had seen more than he wanted to.

“More importantly, it saddens me when I return home to see how our railway infrastructure, from its platforms, its tracks and services face the monsoon fury every year with no long-term solution whatsoever. Why do we have to see the same stations get flooded every year – be it Sion, Chunabhatti or Mahim?” Both Lady Flora and Gargoyle looked at Sir PM. He was quiet during this session. After all, he wasn’t equipped with a solid response. “I hear you. This is extremely unfortunate. I honestly hope my former bosses learn from past mistakes. We can’t be inconveniencing people if we at least aspire to make Bombay a world-class city. Such basic issues as a well-oiled, rain-proof public transport must be tackled head-on,” he chose to play safe. By now, there was a brief respite from the rain.

But Lady Flora’s angst hadn’t diminished, “Pheroze, they have the bandwidth to do great things for this city; what is stopping them? And we don’t even want these five-star hotels or fancy lighting for our monsoon-ravaged railway network. We don’t want to be a smart city. Just give us a smart plan, thank you very much.”

mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana

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