The first Metro in Delhi was completed in 2002, and, like all such projects of engineering, it transformed the journeys of hundreds of commuters.
It stretched over 186 Miles, The journey from New to Old Delhi would have been a chaotic weave of man, lady, child, scooter, car, three-wheeler, taxi cab, bicycle, tractor, cow, bullock cart, and even now and again the odd lumbering mighty elephant – no room to move, but yet moving!
How it worked, that chaotic sea of life, against the full orchestra of horns all crying and wailing for the vehicle in front to move – move where was anyone’s guess. But somehow, it did progress – slowly. And then the metro!
It is estimated that 2.8 million people travel the metro every day across 10 lines. Chandi Chowk has always been a key stop. The ‘Gateway’ to Old Delhi, where a myriad of lanes, gullies, and streets, sell everything – you name it – everything.
Each street is named after the key product it sells, both wholesale and retail. Silver, gold, saris, paper, plumbing goods, keys and padlocks, mirrors, cards and invitations, fabric, shoes, college books, Islamic calendars, prayer mats, and beads.
Venture into the spice market where the air is loaded with cinnamon, pepper, cumin, chilli, and all manner of masalas, displayed in small coloured mountains, alongside baskets of walnuts, almonds, sultanas, ginger, dried mango – all ready to be weighed on old fashioned scales.
Each train holds at least 8 carriages, with seating or standing room for 2,400 passengers! There are trains every 10 minutes, so an estimated 7,200 people could travel in half an hour.
So – what are the chances of meeting the same passengers if you travel twice on a given day?
We embarked at Green Park station and joined a chocca block carriage. The signs above two seats at the start and two seats at the end of each section state ‘For use by Less Able citizens’ and ‘Ladies Only Seat’. Each of these were occupied by men, and they were all able-bodied!
Sitting on the floor (not something one would see on the London Underground!) was a trio all in red, and they caught my eye. I was as intrigued by these handsome-looking ladies, as they seemed to be intrigued by me – a female foreigner on the metro. (It is not SO unusual, but there is still a sense of intrigue to see a female foreigner living like a local when the onlookers maybe have come to the city from their far-off villages.) I smiled at them, and they smiled back, giggling shyly.
I had perfected a glare which seemed to encourage some men to offer up their seats, and thus a young boy graciously offered me his space. I nodded acceptance but then insisted one of my ladies in red take it. I came to realise, once we all alighted, that the ladies in red were accompanied by two men – maybe their husbands, who had been quite happy to leave their wives sitting on the floor. They had been taking up the ‘Ladies Only’ seats! We smiled our goodbyes, and I saved this memory – just one of those chance encounters – who were they, why were they going to Old Delhi, where had they come from.
Carrying bags and sacks, they disappeared into the human train of people. The Ladies in Red – a human encounter, never to be seen again.
After around three hours of samosas and warm sweet sticky jalebi, we decided to get back on the metro to our Delhi Home. Late Saturday afternoon, maybe like Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow or Oxford Street in London, shoppers packed the lanes leading to the station, and the queue to get through the security checkpoints was long. We patiently inched our way through the crowds and waited on the platform, three deep, for the next train. I marvelled at all these people, ships in the night, strangers, class and cast, all going about their day.
As the train powered into Chandi Chowk, we chose the spot where we felt we had the best chance of pushing and shoving our way onto the train. If you could not push and shove, you were quite simply left on the platform – every man for himself!
We surveyed the crowds and chose a queue where we felt we could elbow our way onto the train. It was busy as we joined the sea of faces in the packed carriage.
I could not believe that out of all the crowds of people, who should be in the same carriage but my 'Ladies in Red'. They, too, were surprised to see me, and we laughed at the chance of it!
Of all the Passengers that day, I found it to be such a chance that we would see the exact same people.
I shared this story with a few people – various reactions –
‘That is such a coincidence – that it is more than a coincidence. Too much of a co-incidence!’
‘It is not a coincidence’ said my niece’ ‘that kind of thing will happen throughout the day’
I protested the probability was so low and was irritated that she thought this was commonplace.
But her point was, ‘It does happen, but only those who travel with their eyes wide open will notice it. You are in India to experience it all, so your awareness and observations are not like that of the daily commuter’ Great point!
Just makes me think – how often do we go throughout the day with ‘our eyes wide shut’, and in doing so miss those little connections and moments of warmth?
BUT - I still think to have met the same ladies, that we chose the same time to return, that we chose the same carriages to embark - what are the chances!?!
My eyes are wide open!
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