[Reader-list] The Everyday Net of Legality and Illegality - Publics and Practices

[Zainab Bawa]

23rd November 2004

Publics and Participation

I started my expedition for the day from VT Station. As I stepped out of the 
train, the immediate sight that confronted me was of the Ticket Checkers 
(TCs). I call them Men in Black. They are dressed in black coats and 
trousers and a white shirt inside. Hum kaalen hai to kya hua dilwale hai (So 
what if we are black (dark)? We are people with hearts!) is a song from the 
famous horror black and white film Gumnaam. But this song don’t apply in the 
case of our men in black. They stood in a group, at platform number 5, right 
at the EMU halt. As soon as a train would arrive, they would spread out and 
start asking commuters for tickets. Commuters tend to get very irritated 
when TCs stop them, especially if the commuter is a legal man i.e. following 
the rules and buying tickets. Some commuters simply rush out and when 
stopped, they are still moving ahead, sifting for the ticket inside the 
shirt pocket or the purse and handing it over to our Men in Black. This is 
an interesting practice of time vis-à-vis legality. People in this city do 
not want to get into legal messes. They want to avoid the doors of legality 
as much as they can. There are, in this case, two options:
Option Number Ek – Be legal, do legal
Option Number Do – Go the illegal way, what we can call the doosra darwaza 
(the other door) or the peeche ka darwaaza (back door)
It is not just the everyday man, but even the biggie in his corporate office 
and chair who use the doosra or the peeche ka darwaaza. Sometimes the 
illegal option is the faster way out.

Men in Black were performing their duties pretty diligently. As soon as a 
train would arrive, they would disperse and start checking people. Two TCs 
were standing a little before the subway station exit and two were 
positioned on near the main line entry. I don’t know whether fines still 
continue to go into their pockets or not. But at one time, you could get 
away by paying Rs.50 instead of Rs.250 and the Rs.50 would go into the TC’s 
pocket. Rs.250 ensured that you would get a white slip, a legal slip, 
certifying the fine amount and that would go into the railways’ treasury. 
These days, hefty women, almost goon-like, do the rounds of the ladies 
compartment in the local trains. These are female ticket checkers and they 
can be very goon-like, very vindictive and very obnoxious. I guess everyday 
trespassers i.e. those who travel ticket-less, will find tactics to deal 
with these bhai like behens.

Video Wall: I did not know this, or should I say that I did not notice this, 
until now, that the TV screen at VT Station is known as the Video Wall. You 
can advertise on the Video Wall by paying a certain amount of money. 
Usually, I have seen news running on the screen. This afternoon, something 
surreal happened and believe you in me, it was lifelike. I was leaning 
against a pillar when suddenly, I happened to gaze towards the video wall. I 
saw Jassi (of the tele-serial Jassi Jaisi Koi Nahin on Sony TV) walking from 
the wall into the station. Actually, it was just the video effect – she was 
walking in a daze towards the camera on the screen but it almost seemed like 
she was one of the commuters, walking with a dazed look straight into the 
railway station. I was shocked for a moment until I realized what was 
happening. It was only the world of images and the trappings of my mind. How 
can Jassi come to VT Station? The episode continued. I had not known the 
video wall to be a channel surfing board, but then, it is. The boot polish 
guys sitting on Platform Number 1 were gazing into the screen as also the 
sleepy afternoon commuters. This is dopaher ka entertainment for the 
commuters, a doze of your favourite TV Serials which you may have missed out 
last night. Thus, the video wall appears to be a distraction. This week, 
during an interview with a commuter who commutes from Goregaon to 
Churchgate, she mentioned to me how the video screen is but a form of 
distraction. Her take is that when it comes to VT Station, the commuter 
watches TV instead of looking around at the station and appreciating its 
wonders and beauty. How then can we talk of heritage, I wonder!
Soon enough, as the boring Kkusum serial took over, I found a man 
dexterously climbing over the ladder to the Video Wall room and switching 
channels. Now, news began to play on the screen. Talk of the station as a 
lonely place Mr. Pritish Nandy – I think today the station is about moving 
images and consumptive time!

I chanced to notice that the hoarding advertisements at VT have also 
changed. The TATA’s have advertised two of their latest pesticide products 
and MTNL had advertised its latest telephone billing packages. The 
advertisement hoardings at VT are mainly those of the government 
institutions or at least, of government-like institutions which have also 
taken a private turn viz., the State Bank of India, New India Insurance 
Company, MTNL, Garuda Mobile, TATA’s, etc. One of the odd men out in this 
gamut is a long panel of branded men’s underwear, a long panel which hits 
you in your face with its bright red colour and its positioning on the high 
wall which has you notice it as soon as you get off the station.

In a conversation with a gentleman today, we spoke of the Churchgate and VT 
Stations. Truly, VT is representative of the Sarkari (government) era, 
though it is currently Sarkari with a ‘management’ touch. VT is about 
contracts, about bureaucracy and I would imagine all of that which comes 
with Sarkari. In contrast, Churchgate is a bland station, something like a 
clearance machine. The gentleman spoke to me about how the college crowd at 
VT would comprise of the Ambedkar and Siddharth college type (nerdy, 
middle-class type) and perhaps the only plush crowd is that of St. Xaviers’ 
College “which comes by first class between 11 AM and 12 PM. In contrast, 
Churchgate has the hip KC College and Sydhenam crowd. VT is truly India, 
Bharat,” he says proudly to me!

I walked out of VT Station, in an attempt to try to talk to the hawkers 
outside. The perfume and deodorant seller was doing extremely well. The only 
time he had was to count notes. I saw some Sardarji men examining packets of 
Charlie perfume, awed and skeptical simultaneously, in a somewhat hesitant 
decisive mode of ‘to buy or not to be (i.e. hip)’! Sun glasses sold opposite 
were also doing well just as much as the sock seller by the side. At VT, it 
is about the positioning of your stall. Which layer are you placed along and 
whether you are among the first few or not!

I walked towards the crowded area of the station. I stopped at a table where 
the guy was selling pirated CDs. His name as I have christened him is 
Ruwail. He had streaked his hair copper, just a few of the frontal streaks. 
He was wearing a bright red T-Shirt. The music CDs were priced at Rs.30 
(Hindi and English alike) while the latest movie CDs were priced at Rs.60. 
When I heard this price, I quickly calculated in my head that Ruwail is 
offering me the screen experience for Rs.60 which I can play and replay 
several times at home while INOX would offer me a one time fare for Rs.100 
minus the food et al which I can procure for less than half at home if I 
were to watch the VCD. Truly, technology has percolated to the lowest rung 
of the masses. I wonder whether piracy and the development of multiplexes 
was a simultaneous phenomenon in India. The poor, who are actually the 
cine-goers, can no longer afford the cinematic experience which they once 
could. Cable TV has enabled them to indulge in family entertainment sitting 
right at home. That’s where piracy helps and fuels the Cable TV movement.
I bought one music CD from Ruwail. The music CDs were damn interesting, 
especially the covers that were designed. The cover gives you a rough idea 
of the content – the cover is basically an image of the summary of the CD. 
You can never be sure of what the real contents are. One of the interesting 
covers was a pop music CD cover. It had Britney Spears on it on one side and 
Asha Bhonsale on the other! Cool nah! But the CD was full of Hindi Pop songs 
as the list was displayed on the back side of the cover. I want to own a 
collection of these fancy covers. Truly, experience these days is all about 
moving images and the aspirations which the images evoke in you!
Ruwail thought me to be an interested customer. I told him I would come back 
the next day and pick up a copy of one of the latest films (he was not there 
the next day). Someone tried to bargain with Ruwail. “Give me two for 50 
bucks instead of 60,” the customer tried. Ruwail refused to budge saying, 
“We get only two rupees per CD. What do you expect?” Ruwail’s customers were 
mainly middle-class office-goers, the government office babu types. Ruwail’s 
USP (Unique Selling Point) was hi collection of Mukesh songs and the old 
black and white film genre songs. He had people coming in continuously. In 
contrast, the guy located a little distance away hardly had customers though 
his fare was largely similar to Ruwail’s. He was standing empty and alone 
with his partner.
Framed photos of Gods were being sold at Rs.10 a piece and believe you in me 
once again, the stuff is worth a 100 chips sold at 1/10th the price. I 
wonder where all this goods comes from? Does it get transported from the 
city through the trains arriving at VT – from inside to outside? Least 
likely for the railway station has become a major surveillance site for 
large goods packages.
The purchase of pirated CD almost made me feel empowered. I was 
participating in the everyday illegality! And it felt great to trespass and 
wag my tongue out to the authority. Perhaps this is the eternal rebel inside 
of me showing its face – like I said, I am majorly schizophrenic!

Churchgate Station: I walked to Nariman Point from VT. As part of this 
route, I go by the Churchgate station subway. While standing at VT today, I 
realized that every piece of space in this city has been territorialized and 
marked – very clearly and indicatively! When I entered the Churchgate 
Station subway, the BMC proudly welcomed me into it with their loud 
hoarding. As soon as I was on the border between the subway and the railway 
station, which I actually see as a continuity, I found a little neon board 
saying, “Western Railway Welcomes You”. That’s it. Spaces are no longer 
about continuity – they are about markings and naming! Everything is being 
made starkly visible in this city!
Outside the station, it has a clean shaven look. Hawkers have been moved off 
the station. The MCGM grey surveillance van stands close to watch. It is an 
ugly looking vehicle, almost a replica of a mobile prison. As I walked, I 
peeped through the back door bars and noticed a cycle inside it. Perhaps 
this was confiscated property.

Nariman Point: I proceeded towards Nariman Point. Today I am determined to 
meet Shah Rukh, the little tea-seller boy and ask him if he will speak to 
me. As I started walking from my usual starting point towards the settling 
down point, I noticed several little scenes of legality and illegality. The 
first one goes like this:
Just close to the site where work on the seafront is taking place, I noticed 
a mustachioed man, dark and with almost Ravana like looks, sitting with two 
other plain-clothed officials. There were two peanut sellers standing in 
front of him. He started, “Tum log abhi din mein aane lage. Zara raat mein 
aao (You people have started coming here in day time. At least come out in 
the night.).” This legal henchman, perhaps either of the police or the BMC 
was in a way warning the hawkers to come out on the seafront when it is 
dark. That is the time when surveillance van goes away. Thus, in a city, 
illegality shows its face and operates in the dark, especially when it now 
comes to the hawkers. Porous legalities, as Lawrence Liang says. The same 
legal henchman is the guy surreptitiously promoting illegality in the dark 
hours of the city. This mustachioed Ravana, then, in a sarkari haram-khor 
like manner began to toss the peanuts and fling them into his mouth. 
Obviously, the hawkers had to oblige with some freebies.

I moved towards the seafront and settled close to the pay and park site. 
Shahrukh walked towards me as if he knew I wanted to speak to him. I bought 
a cup of tea from him and extracted a promise that he would talk to me 
tomorrow. I did not dare disturb him in his time of dhanda. But I am very 
unsure whether he will turn up tomorrow, though he has promised me.

Sitting next to me at Nariman Point was a mother-daughter pair. They seemed 
Hyderabadi. The daughter was telling her mother that the hawkers now stand 
behind the Oberoi Hotel. The name Hilton Towers has still not sunk inside 
the everyday parlance of the peoples. The mother nodded her head. Soon, the 
daughter began to count the number of rooms in Hilton Towers. She said, “It 
is 520 rooms.” Her mother was a bit startled with this count. “How,” she 
asked. The daughter responded, “If it is 260 on the front side, then we need 
to double it and consider the back side as well.” The mother-daughter duo 
kept gazing at the hotel. It is a symbol of the city’s glamour, an 
aspiration of the everyday youngster to be in it someday and savour the 
goodies and the fares dished out by it. But, this is after all, only a 
dream, an aspiration and one lives by the constant flavours of this 
aspiration. That’s enough in itself.

I proceeded to head back to home. As I walked along, I noticed a police jeep 
with two plain clothed officers coming out of it and sizing up a beggar 
woman. She tried hard to escape but the havaldar caught hold of her. She 
pleaded him to let go off her, but he was stern and wouldn’t care at all. 
She was pushed inside the jeep. Then, her wailing child was picked up from 
the pavement and put inside the vehicle too. Some passers-by noticed this 
scene, stopped for a while, then continued. Like I said, who dare and also 
care confront the police and get into legal tangles? I followed the jeep 
carefully. At various points, it would halt and the plain clothed men would 
walk out and look around. Perhaps this is another surveillance drive to move 
the beggars off the seafront. This is only speculation for I still don’t 
know the real moves. As I watched this scene, the same thoughts came to my 
mind – public space, but where is the public and what do they do when these 
legal-illegal episodes take place. Perhaps the public is savouring the 
space; after all, it is not us, it is only them, the squalor of this city. 
But who knows, tomorrow it might just be us in their place?

Sound of the Day: While walking towards the seafront, I had noticed a 
cold-drink seller making the familiar whrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnggggggg, 
whrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnggggggg sounds which I was used to hearing at 
Nariman Point. Except that this time, he had a mobile cart consisting of a 
plastic tub and two bottles in his hand. I felt frightened on hearing his 
bold calls. Does he know what he is upto? What will happen if the 
surveillance guys hear him? Almost the scene where Gabbar tells his men in 
the film Sholay, “Jab baccha raat ko shor karta hai to maa kehti hai, so ja, 
so ja warna Gabbar aa jayega!”

Image of the Day: A coffee-tea seller selling his wares from the insides of 
a McDonalds thick plastic bag. These bags are produced and sold at a price 
at various paan shops and with pheriwalas around hawking and non-hawking 
zones. This is one such bag which has a ugly yellow colour, an ugly red and 
the M of McDonalds with the curved smile. The wonder about this scene is the 
image: an illegal guy, selling his wares quietly from the insides of a 
corporate entity which itself has many claims running against it! That’s 
globalization and urbanization for you messres!




Zainab Bawa
Mumbai
www.xanga.com/CityBytes

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