Mumbai's local trains

Fancy a dose of mortal fear, airstream and jostling? Have you always wanted to jump onto a moving train and then stand on a square meter with 20 people at the same time while this much-demanded square meter races along a deep abyss at a good 70 km/h? If so, come to Mumbai! In this Indian mega-metropolis on the Arabian Sea, you can do all this for as little as 10 rupees (approx. 11 cents)! And for the advanced thrill: arrive with a bulky backpack, which gives an even more intense “impact” (in the lower back)! For westerners there are free stares, as many as you desire!

During our stay in Mumbai, a wonderful couchsurfer host invited us to her home in one of the many suburbs. There were pretty much two ways to get there from our long-distance railway station. (A) get impudently ripped off in the rickshaw game (been there, done that!) or (B) to take one of the infamous local trains for a reasonable price. For us, who already count ourselves among the train experts with two Indian train journeys under our belt, this is of course no question. It cannot be that bad: buy a ticket, get on the train, follow the route on Maps, get off at the right station... Gosh, we were naive.

The digital train travel guide Seat61 describes Indian rail travel in an endeavor to be encouraging: "You can safely forget any pictures you've seen of overcrowded Indian trains with people on the roof or hanging on the side. These these photos show suburban or local train rather than modern long-distance transport." Very good, so everything is civilised and bourgeois, except on the local tra... Local trains? Isn't that what we want to take now?

Okay, but we're not in Delhi, India's largest and capital city. The Lonely Planet travel guide says the following about rail transport in Mumbai: "Mumbai's local train network is one of the busiest in the world. Don't even think about taking the train during rush hours (7am to 11am and 4pm to 8pm)."

At 7.30 pm we got off our long-distance train at Vasai Road Station north of Mumbai, exhausted but curious. For 23 hours, two very active children had been climbing on us, shouting at us (in Hindi) and pawing at us, interrupted only by a small vomiting session and a very short sleep break. It didn't help that the parents, some of whom were pregnant and some of whom actually had reservations elsewhere, naturally sat down with us anyway, so that seven of us (+ 2 children) squeezed cosily in a compartment that was actually designed for four to six people. The outside of our train was painted in the familiar red and white colours of Deutsche Bahn and I am familiar with the picture of passengers sitting on the floor from beloved Hamburg Central Station. However, these were the only things comparable to Germany. Here at Vasai Road Station, however, families were cooking on the platforms, people were constantly climbing onto the track bed (after all, it's a great shortcut) and we were stared at as if we were Bollywood stars.

We only had a short journey on a local train ahead of us, then a short taxi ride and we would be freshly showered and happy in the cozy bed in the couchsurfer's guest room. Wrong thinking! The train tickets were quickly picked up, was it mainly because of the favourable price that we had agreed to take the train in the first place. As we walked down the stairs to the platform, a local train was just leaving. The doors were open, people were hanging on the rods, half inside, half outside the train, while other Indians tried to squeeze through the blocking people into the moving train. We counted: After about seven bodies standing sideways in the door, it's over and it's generally accepted that the carriage is full. The remaining people who couldn't jump on the moving train (what losers) were now waiting for the next train with us. Fortunately, we quickly realised that our local train was coming from the opposite direction. Fortunately, it wasn't that full, we got on quickly and the journey was uneventful apart from the gawping. It was already after 8pm and we were probably too late for the thrill.

The interior of the train was lined with cold metal and fans from the time of the invention of fans blew questionable odours down on us. Air conditioning is not considered necessary in Mumbai, where it gets up to 40 degrees at midday. We could understand that, as the open doors blew in enough wind. In Mumbai, sadly, quite a few people are killed every year on local trains where they are pushed out of the open doors or are unable to hold on. It all adds to an unsettling atmosphere.

The doors are left open to speed up boarding and alighting. As soon as the train approaches a station, the mass of bodies begins to prepare. Some want to get out, others want to get further into the train to avoid being pushed out or crushed. The pickpockets want to get active. As soon as the train reaches the beginning of the track, the first lunatics jump out. And they are actually still well off, because only a short time later the first passengers on the platform start to squeeze themselves INTO the train. The doors are large. However, when eight people want to get on and eight people want to get off at the same time, and there are more rows behind them pushing, and there is a metal bar in the centre of the door that makes everything even more complicated, you really don't want to be fighting for your survival in this maelstrom. And for your information, the train is still travelling at least at walking pace at the time of the crush.

As soon as the first pressure has been released, the stream of people is only moving towards inside. While the maximum of physics has already been tested at the previous station, every stop is yet another attempt to increase the world record for a maximum fit of people/area. The unknown heroes, however, are the souls who hold the shop together at the opposite door on the abyss and form up as a human prop to ensure that nobody falls into the tracks. It's definitely one of the more fascinating crowd experiments we've witnessed while travelling the world.

The following day, we wanted to tempt our fate once again and headed towards the city centre and the sights, this time in the backpack-savers version (with just a camera bag and fanny pack). Mumbai is actually an elongated island, with the Gateway of India and the main railway station Victoria Terminus built at the very tip. The centre is a little further uptown, but still at the far southern end of this tip. The suburbs extend for several kilometres and hours of driving to the north. Two railway lines (only to the north due to the island's geography) bring the 18 million Mumbaians to their workplace, to cricket or to their graves. No wonder it sometimes gets a bit crowded.

We started our local train day two with a faux pas. Happy to have hopped on the next train without a long wait, I looked around... and saw only confused women. Quite a difference from the day before. We had ended up in the women's compartment. Quickly out again. Train starts leaving. Shoot, we're not yet prepared to hop on a moving train. On the next attempt on the next train, we even found seats and got to Churchgate without problems.

The last day was going to be a tight squeeze. We had booked our onward journey on the long-distance train from the famous Victoria Terminus in the heart of Mumbai, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We had to take the local train there one last time, this time again well packed with our backpacks. It was Sunday and some trains were on strike, so our choice was limited. Unfortunately, our departure had been delayed a little, so we only arrived at the station four minutes before our departure time. Up the stairs, pushing six people out of the way at the ticket counter, a quick sprint in flip-flops across the slippery concourse floor, search for the platform, our train was already waiting, the doors already crammed with Indian body parts. Will this be the moment we've been waiting for so eagerly? Jumping on a moving train for once?

Yes! I was ahead of Leah, had already reached the bottom of the stairs, saw a gap and made eye contact with the Indians in the doorway. At first in disbelief, but then the doormen nodded to us: we could make it. Two metres before we reached the door, the train pulled up. We accelerated and I signalled to Leah to jump on first. She made it, I followed. We clapped and there was a brief round of applause from the passengers. We waved happily to the gawking crowd, we had survived Mumbai's local trains - nothing can stop us now!