Visiting the City of Dreams

My first train trip to Mumbai in the summer of 1982 will count as something special. It was not only my first tryst with the big city of Mumbai but also my first-ever tour outside my home town, Bengaluru. I was part of a group picked to embark on a "workers education programme" conducted by my employer, State Bank of India, Bengaluru Circle.

The all-expenses-paid extravaganza was a gesture from the bank to allow employees to bump into the top executives of the bank at the plush Central Office building, in the posh Nariman Point area, besides being a learning experience.

As a rookie in the bank, I was thrilled at the prospect of visiting India's bustling commercial hub, famed for its enterprising populace and larger than life movie stars.

We checked into a hotel in Matunga close to the railway station. On our very first evening in the 'city of dreams,' my close colleague and I very nearly managed to lose our way. We wandered out to explore the neighbourhood but strayed too far away from our hotel. When we turned back to our room, we were caught in a maze of similar looking roads and

left groping.

Unable to communicate with our colleagues (it was an era sans the mobile phone) and with only the name of the hotel in our memory, we were at our wit's end. Luckily, we bumped into a good samaritan and were escorted back to the lodge, only to see the tour in-charge give us a piece of his mind.

Phew! Travelling by the Mumbai local trains was an unforgettable experience. A sea of commuters boards these fast-moving trains every

day. But the sight of young and middle-age passengers running in and out of these trains with the ease of circus showmen held me spellbound.

One lethargic colleague who was slow to detrain at a station paid for his folly. The commuters who were in a hurry pushed him onto the platform,

resulting in a bloodied nose. One also got to see passengers busy doing the crossword puzzle or engrossed in a game of cards or chess, oblivious of people around them. One of my colleagues had the mortification of having his pocket picked, but thanks to his lucky stars, he lost little.

Though our rendezvous with the bank's chairman did not materialise as he was busy in a meeting, we were thrilled with our first experience in the lift. As we went up and stood on the 14th floor, beside the window near the chairman's cabin, it was akin to floating on cloud nine. A bank official who was with us had some amusing anecdotes to narrate.

Pointing to a tall church steeple in the foreground, he ruefully disclosed that in the old days this was the spot from where students committed suicide, after failing to clear their final exams.

High-rise structures dwarfed the steeple of the cathedral which once towered over the other buildings in the vicinity. The golden memories of my maiden tour will linger with me forever.