1
The lulling rhythm of the wheels over the rails sounds refreshing in the clear, cool morning. The crisp metal knocking wakes up many memories. Ever since childhood when I lived in a small town in Sichuan Basin, surrounded by rolling mountains and Yangtze River, I have seldom heard a train go by and not wished I was on it. Please take me away to your unknown faraway destination, in the deep jungle, echoing valleys where spring sings, flowers smile and wild animals dance.

The arm extended outside the blanket last night feels frozen for the full throttle air conditioning. The girl at the opposite berth is still sleeping. I climb out from my upper berth. Most passengers in this air-conditioned 2-tier coach are still sleeping. The curtains are down, each separated out their owndiscreet world. I walk to the end of the cart. An Indian boy stands beside the opened door, breathing in the fresh, cool air. His eyes fix to the rosy shade horizon. Meadows, cane fields, banana brushes, rice patches, and rivers quickly retreat backward.

2
Arrived Mumbai from London yesterday, immediately exposed to culture shock of this crowded, dusty and smelly metropolis of an ancient developing country. One can never prepare enough for the full intenty of the impact. A
20km tarmac road leads to city centre – Victoria Terminus rail station (aka. CST). On the pavement is 20km stretch of ‘temporary shelters’. Semi-opaque plastic sheets streaked with dust. Waste water leaves marks on the faded timber, piles of rubbish and all sort of suspicious objects left outside the door step. Those more sophisticated shelters are two stories, built with a metal sheet roof. The first floor is accessed via bamboo ladder loosely leaned on the open doors. Every detail of every resident’s daily life is unfolded without any preservation to the drive-bys, a striking sign of poverty. Albeit negative first impress to every visitor to Mumbai, the city council can do very little about them – there is no legal justification to remove these establishments. Look further behind this shelter-belt, one will found planned and well organised residential tower blocks.

Passing a busy road junction, there is a digger half buried in a pile of rubble. Uniform policemen orchestrating a compulsory knock down of a shop next to the road. The façade of the house is all gone, through the flying dust it reveals interior settings in green and brown. The knock down attracts many pedestrians, making the busy lunch hour traffic even more congested. Our Taxi driver casts a glimpse at it and expressionlessly says ‘They built the house onto the road.”

We leave rucksacks at the CST station, decide have a walk around this powerhouse of India. Our train to the north departs in the evening. For half a day’s highlight, there is no better way to experience the place than to live like a local.
We take the bus to Upper Colaba, and then walk to Gateway of India along the east coastline. The Gateway of India was built in 1924 to commemorate HM King George V and Queen Victoria’s visit in 1911. It took just another 24 years for the arch to witness the final departure of HMS Raj. The Gateway of India and CST station both are classic and symbolic Indo-Saracenic style architecture. It combines traditional Hindu and Islamic elements with the Gothic revival style favoured in Victorian England. British colonials left, leaving the arch to symbolise victory and prosperity. Now it becomes the culture heritage of Mumbai and India.

Tata Taxi - popular choice

from my flickr online photo album

From here you may:

Hamish Smith (London) contributes invaluable input on proof-reading and revision, thank you.

[tags]India Railway, Mumbai Suburban Raiway[/tags]