Next station, Marine lines

The trains of Mumbai are full of curious characters. When I first started traveling by train, I was the type who sat quietly (preferably at the window seat) and observed all the people around me. I was, and still am completely taken in by the myriad of people.

There's the middle class, marathi bai who sits with her handbag (and extra plastic bag) on her lap, eating nick-knacks all the way. 

There's the chillar shopaholic who'll want to buy something from every hawker that gets into the compartment. 

There's the dare devilish college student who chooses to stand, hanging out the door despite there being room to sit.

There's the fisherwoman who sits in the most inconvenient spot with her unwieldy basket of dry fish, perfuming the place with it. 

There's the eunuch who walks around tapping everyone on their head and waking up anyone asleep.

There's the loud office-goer who's always fixing meetings and discussing budgets over the phone.

There's the big-bummed aunty who gives dirty looks to all the seated folk until someone gets up.

There's the twenty-something year old, with earphones plugged in, sitting oblivious to the crowds and announcements.

There's the idiotic guy who jumps into the ladies' compartment just as the train's pulling away, spending his journey to the next station getting abused by old aunties.

And there's the tired lady with 2 rowdy kids who sits by the window with her feet up, refusing to let anyone sit opposite her.

I've probably missed out on some specimens. Time will unveil more of them. Till then, I continue being elbowed and stepped on in the mad rushes, jostling among these people. 

Mumbai is fun.