I see some very respected former bureaucrats and police officers responding to a video of a woman falling of a Mumbai local with: "People should not travel hanging on trains. It's dangerous." It's not a choice, sir. I have lived in Mumbai. As a journalist, I had non-peak-hour timings. Once, Mumbai CP D Shivnandhan called me for an interview at 9 am. When I reached Goregaon station, I realised there was simply no way I could enter the train. I let one go, then another, only to find that every subsequent train seemed even more crowded. Finally, I caught one, hanging from the rainwater gutter above the door. As the train began moving, I felt I was literally hanging between life and death by the strength of my bare fingers. I kept pleading with fellow passengers to make some space and pull me in. It fell on deaf ears. I don't blame them. The wretchedness of daily life in Mumbai can make anyone numb. I kept praying: please, just let me reach the next station safely. My heart pounded with every chug of the train. When the train slowed and finally stopped, I jumped off. That day, I became a believer. I felt only an invisible force could have saved my life. I had to do this once. Millions risk their lives this way every single day. Not out of choice, but because they have no choice. And Mumbai is not a city worth romanticising as some great triumph of human resilience. Unless, perhaps, you are a diamond merchant. For ordinary people, life can be reduced to something resembling that of cockroaches — you survive because your livelihood keeps you there. The “Spirit of Mumbai” is perhaps the biggest bullshit we have normalised. Celebrating people's daily suffering, and the failure of a city to provide them a safe way to commute, as some uniquely admirable spirit is a cruel joke.