On lifts

Firstly, it's 'lift'. I've never heard anyone in Bombay calling it an 'elevator'. So it's lift, not elevator (I mean, imagine Adnan Sami going "Elevate kara de").

My favorite lift story is when we were at this friend’s house. While leaving, I stuck my chewing gum on the "G" button (I figured ground floor’s the most used one) of his lift. I shaped it around the white button, stuck it and left – much disaster, agony, gaali-galoch in his housing society followed. Yes, that was a very tough patch for our friendship. Poor guy.

So, this post is about lifts and the fact that I've been kinda fascinated by them. Terrified of escalators (for which I'm duly mocked at by family and friends), but kinda fascinated by lifts. As a kid it was the whole Superman thing - entering a lift with normal clothes and flying out of the terrace, all caped and red undies and stuff (ok, the undies didn't figure then). As an adolescent, well, if you've heard Aerosmith, you know what I mean. And now - or at least till I worked at an office - I've been fascinated at the great Indian lift culture.

I think lift culture forms an essential part of societal norms and urban life. As long as you are in a mode of transport, there is an established code for behaviour. In a local train you move towards the door when your station's about to come. If you're driving, you stick to certain lanes (yeah right). If you're in a bus, you keep your money ready when the conductor's around. You know, there's an order, a discipline. Small things that keep life in a city calm and peaceful. More importantly, it's part of an important mechanism for survival (or as I know it - getting to office on time.)

I've observed some cogs in the wheel of this lift culture machinery. You know, some trends and types. Like this.

1. The dash - Even before you enter your lobby, from the corner of your eye you notice that of the four lifts in the lobby, only one is boarding - and people are rushing in. This gets out the Carl Lewis or P. T. Usha in you. This is the single most important dash of the day. If you rewind the moment, you can see yourself, in full formals, running, chest heaving, drops of sweat falling off the brow, running to that one lift. Think Chariots of Fire. Think glory, think victory.

2. Being Noah - In the absence of a lift-man, if you happen to be the one near the dashboard, then you, yes you are the man. Sure, others will jab your six packs trying to push the floor button and someone from the back will shout "Boss, jara 10th floor". But dude, you are Noah. This is your ark. You have to herd everyone away from the flood. In short press "door close" and let's move it. Oh and don't forget the expression of Carl Lewis on the other side as the doors close. He didn't make it, I did. Life hai.

3. Low life - May the Lords despatch to hell those who press the "up" button when they want to go "down". May he have fungus-infected underwear for the rest of his life. So the door opens and you see this guy who asks "Neeche?". It brings out the Uruk Hai in you. After all, there is no stretch of logic to justify an action like that. Motion is simple. Up is up and down is down. This lift can't go down mid-way, when it's going up. And certainly not when Mogambo is in it. Now die, filthy mortal. You say "No" calmly. Humanity wins.

4. Desperado - See, pressing the "Lift" button 534 times in 10 seconds won’t get the lift to you quicker. No, really. There's electronics, physics, hydraulics, engineering going behind that door, behind that button. Stuff you won’t understand, stuff that has made people Noble laureates. So it doesn't matter if you keep pressing. I know you belong to an era of collapsible gate lifts when you'd shout out "Lift" and lo and behold, like a nymph from the skies, like an apsara, a lift would float in front of you. No. It's not like that any more. So wait. Be quiet. Save the energy.

So, these were my few observations. Love to know yours.

And if, like me, you’re looking for the answers to these questions:
1. Oh horror, my lift’s falling and I’m going to die. Should I jump out just before it hits the ground?
2. Oh horror, my lift’s….should I just hug the floor of the lift?

..actually even if you’re not thinking those questions, just read this excellent New Yorker piece on elevators, “Up and down: the lives of elevators by Nick Paumgarten”. Brilliant stuff.