[Reader-list] Of Churchgate Station

[zainab at xtdnet.nl]

7th February 2005

A Railway Station

This evening, I decided to stand and watch Churchgate station. Fieldwork
is hard work. But perhaps it is hard work which brings in results. Each
time I am on the field, I find that the city talks to me. It opens its
heart out to me. I believe that the city is generous. That is because love
is generous. And when the mind’s eye is open, things start to reveal
themselves.

I am a multiple personality. These days, more so. I am trying to
discipline myself by working in an office. So one of my identities is that
of a working woman. I boarded the train at Grant Road station to get to
Churchgate. While waiting at Grant Road station for the train to arrive, I
was lost in my own thoughts. I almost became a practitioner of the space
of the railway station. Perhaps the railway station is a breathing space –
a breathing space for the few moments that we spend waiting at the station
for the train to arrive. I wonder whether the railway station is at all a
meeting space – a space where ‘others’ meet ‘others’ and this is no
superficial meeting, but a meeting of the minds and the souls. But perhaps
such meeting spaces are few in the emerging city; there are more of these
on the Internet though.

In the train, two women were sitting opposite me. Both were married.
Suddenly, a woman from the back seat came running towards these women and
said, “Hurry up, give me a bindi (the circular dot which married women,
usually Hindu wear on their foreheads)”. The two women scrambled through
their bags and out came little round dibiyas of bindis. The woman managed
to get the appropriate brown bindi she needed and she thanked the seated
women and ran back. It occurred to me then how symbols are transformed
into commodities. These days, while walking through the city’s streets, I
observe commodities and wonder whether streets provide the space for
transformation of commodities – practices of logos, branding, kitsch and
transformation.

I landed on the platform at Churchgate station. Churchgate station – I
feel quite bored here. But I cannot be a judgmental researcher. It is the
peak hour time, a moment of rush. At this time, the railway station is
transformed into a transitory space which gets you home – home, home is
where the heart finally is! People were rushing in straight queues,
straight to their platforms. I wonder whether they are automatically
conditioned and they get into their respective trains without much
thinking – like some kind of automated response? I don’t know. I cannot
know because I am the last person on this earth who can be disciplined
though I keep harboring dreams of being perfectly conditioned and
disciplined. I remember speaking to Kohl who had said to me, “Initially,
when I was using Churchgate station, I would have to think to get to my
train. But if you ask me now, I just know. In fact, I don’t even remember
when the transition took place from conscious decision making to a
conditioned automated response. I am wondering, when did this change come
about in me?”

All this while, I stood close to the automated ticket vending machine.
Now, the deal in the Mumbai trains is that you either purchase a straight
ticket or you buy bulk coupons which you can get validated at the coupon
vending machine. The latter practice is timesaving and a sizeable amount
of people indulge in it. While standing there, I found two men who came to
get their coupons validated. One of them was instructing the other, “Do it
like this. Hurry up now, how much time are you wasting?” The poor chap
kept struggling to get the technique right and perhaps by the nagging of
the other fellow, he was fumbling even more. I want to be able to record
conversations at the train station – what kinds of conversations are
these? Are these conversations about time? And then, is a railway station
about speed? And are speed and time equivalent? God knows, but I am sure
he will or the city will surely reveal to me in some time. Keep watching,
keep watching, keep watching 


I began to look around at the advertisement hoardings at Churchgate
station. One of them was by TATA Salt which said in the tri-colour
background, “Desh ka namak!” meaning salt of the nation. Now that exactly
brings me back to my observations about commodity and transformation of
commodity. Goodness me, this city is talking too much to me. I reject TATA
Salt from today – bloody nationalist salt – not worth the salt eh? I want
to launch a civil disobedience movement against this oppressive
nationalist salt. Come on, who wants to join in???

Loafing around my gaze at the advertisement hoardings, I saw two boards on
home loans offered by two different banks. One was an ad of Central Bank
home loan and the caption said, “Own your own dream home” and the other ad
was by Punjab National Bank and the caption said, “Apne parivar ko de
tohfe mein ghar” meaning give your family a gift of home. As I watched
these two boards, I realized that dreams are being marketed and sold at
the railway station and such clever ploy. Each of us who commutes via the
railway station has an aspiration of owning a home in this city, this city
which is brutal in its real estate pricing. As I, a middle-class housewife
or an upwardly mobile young executive of the Nariman Point ‘type’, walks
through Churchgate station, the dream of the home is in my face, at every
inch, every furlong. And what a dream this is! Elusive, but ultimate! But
I am at the railway station everyday – every single day and this dream is
in my face and it is my ultimate aspiration, now easy – it can happen in
installments my dear. I believe that the railway station also has a hand
in contributing to the city’s transformations.

I keenly watch people walking in straight, disciplined and yet rushed
queues towards their trains. I am marking people – the yuppie South Mumbai
college ‘type’, the Maharashtrian ‘workingwoman type’, the Nariman Point
executive ‘type’. The railway station is truly a site of marking – perfect
marking (and perhaps imperfect perceptions). I notice that the
Maharashtrian crowd of Churchgate station is so very different from the
Maharashtrian crowd of VT Station. The different is so apparent that I
wonder whether my stereotyping has actually fulfilled a prophecy? How do I
discover this? I watch women walking, running, rushing and I think that
the railway station is also a site of violence, a kind of automated,
silent violence which brews, like coffee, deep within. And then, perhaps
it erupts like a volcano, sometime, somewhere, misplaced uh uh displaced.

I decide to walk ahead with thoughts of violence in my mind. I watch the
new IKAY’s restaurant which has become very popular at Churchgate.
Earlier, in place of IKAY’s was a very famous Chinese restaurant, whose
name I seem to have forgotten now (perhaps that is how short-term memories
have become in the emerging Mumbai city!). The previous Chinese restaurant
served fabulous Chinese food at very cheap prices. But one was always
cautioned before eating in this restaurant because it location is right
next to the stinking ladies’ and gents’ public toilet at the station. I
was often told, “You know, the restaurant gets its water from the public
toilet to cook food.” Now, IKAY’s has come up and believe me, IKAY’s is
plush and posh, chic and clean. It is fashionably lit; the waiters taking
orders are uniformed; it serves all kinds of delights and you have a
take-away section. In summary, IKAY’s has everything which its predecessor
did not have. IKAY’s is clean and perfect. And as I watch IKAY’s, the city
whispers into my ears, “Do you see the discourse of cleanliness? Would
anyone caution you now if you eat in IKAY’s, even though IKAY’s is as
close to the public toilets as its predecessor?” Yes, I now understand the
politics of commodity, of urban transformation, of signs, of advertising,
of capitalism and whatever you have! DAMN!

The city talks and it can talk a lot. I am afraid to listen at times
because it speaks the truth, some truths. Can I bear to listen and digest
the truths? Maybe I need some water from IKAY’s and I don’t care if it
comes from the public toilets.

I walk towards the subway and right up is a strong neon-lit board
advertising Minto mint sweets. In the corny corner of the huge ad is the
hero who is singing, “Agar maina ko hai patana, to Minto khana” i.e. if
you want to smooth talk the girl, eat Minto sweets. The heroine or maina
if you please, is starkly dressed in a back-lace blouse, her back and the
flesh showing prominently. I walk a little further down, and I see pirated
VCDs selling. Yes, that’s exactly what a railway station is about – Sex,
Lies and Videotapes (or pirated CDs if you may please)!!!






Zainab Bawa
Bombay
www.xanga.com/CityBytes