What a city!

It has been little over a year since I started residing in this city and in the midst of a very monotonous routine, I must confess to having taken great interest in the various little intricacies that go about defining life here and how this magnificent city always seems to leave you feeling inadequate

Swine flu was no different.

It started off being the butt of all jokes around the cafetaria table. I was having a tough time at work being forced to abandon travel back home in order to slog those extra couple of hours . Hitherto, all my adventures in the Mumbai suburbans had been late night ones. I must admit to having freaked out once when a group of Sainiks stormed into a bogie which had been occupied by just yours' truly at one in the morning. I have great sympathy for eunuchs as a class, but catching them in compromising positions on another occasion well after midnight- to put it mildly- was distasteful. So here I was, wating at the station at five in the morning, eager to catch some fresh air, which I hadn't done for a couple of days, having been caged in the stifling air-conditioned environs of my workplace.

I was to be taken aback as the train arrived

Initially, it seemed as if a certain religious sect whose extreme adherents cover their mouths was celebrating some auspicious day. Besides, there was hardly any space to step into. Once I regained my wits about myself, I was telling myself, "Dude, this is Mumbai for you". I came to understand that there had been "two fatal cases of swine-flu" in the city over the past twenty-four hours. I resisted taking my handkerchief's assistance, at the same time berating my fellow passengers for resorting to such unwarranted, panic-driving measures. I shuffled uncomfortably next to an elderly person, who by all conservative estimates was over seventy and lo and behold, out came his handkerchief to cover his face with a look of disgust and extreme disapproval to boot.

"F*** me. What does that **** think of himself?" was all I could mutter. Contempt for fellow passengers soared. I took in the morning air with great aplomb for the rest of the journey

The 'nose and mouth' (N&M) disease had spread to hawkers on the platforms when I took the train back to work. I was in this exalted state which one attains when he/she believes in being a cut above the rest. My parents' narration of swine -flu incidents across Mumbai had done very little to dent my ego. After a couple of stations, a couple of my colleagues joined me with masks in place. Inhalation became more measured all of a sudden.

After another thoroughly exhausting and boring day at work, I hired an auto to get to the rail station. No sooner had I boarded the auto than the driver took out his handkerchief and put it in place (N&M). I was stumped and muttered the very same lines under my breath, but this time in Hindi.

The scene at the rail station resembled one out of a cancer hospital. My dad has a sense for calling me when you least want him to, and unsurprisingly, he was on the line giving me details about cases of swine-flu reported. My hand reached out to my pocket in a flash, and N&M had its latest victim. I ensured that my hands stayed inside my laptop bag for the remainder of the journey not wanting to catch a strain of the virus that may have been 'flying over my head or resting on the window sill'. The state of elation that I had been in seemed a distant dream. My head started spinning; my body was shivering a tad and there were a couple of sneezes, all of which did great good in contributing to my general sense of well-being. I just wanted to get back home safe. I also remembered the old man and the auto driver and started apologising to them.

Once I reached the station, I dashed to the nearest pharmacist and was relieved when he gave me a couple of N-95 swine-flu masks. I was sweating now and heaved a sigh of relief when I got home.

I woke up the next morning and washed my hands with all the different hand-washes that I had bought the previous day. I popped in a couple of Vitamin tablets and also some almonds as confidence building measures. With a clean handkerchief in pocket and mask in place (N&M), I stepped out of my house, still feeling mighty impressed about myself.

I was to be taken aback again.

It was a sight that had to be witnessed. N&M had vanished and the 'Aam Junta' was celebrating Janmashtami in full splendour. People were no longer suspicious about the person next to him/her and it was an outpouring that forced the 24*7 Nonsensical & Endlessly Weird Speculating (NEWS) channels to tone down their coverage of swine-flu. I was humbled and at the same time felt dwarfed as I deposited my mask in the waste-bin nearby

I was telling myself again, "Dude, this is Mumbai for you".

(A special word of thanks to Rahul for inviting me home and then going on a 'personal errand' forcing me to write to kill my boredom)