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By:

Minal Sancheti

2 May 2026 at 12:26:53 pm

Tussle between BMC, WR leaves Dadar dry

Mumbai: Dadar is the only railway station in Mumbai that has no authorised water connection. This, as per the sources, is due to an ongoing dispute between the Western Railway and the BMC. The tussle between the BMC and the Western Railway has led to a strange situation. The Western Railway is asking the BMC to pay Rs 338 crore for way leave charges, and the Western Railway has to pay Rs 22 Lakh to the BMC. The tussle has been going on for 12 years and remains unresolved. As per the sources,...

Tussle between BMC, WR leaves Dadar dry

Mumbai: Dadar is the only railway station in Mumbai that has no authorised water connection. This, as per the sources, is due to an ongoing dispute between the Western Railway and the BMC. The tussle between the BMC and the Western Railway has led to a strange situation. The Western Railway is asking the BMC to pay Rs 338 crore for way leave charges, and the Western Railway has to pay Rs 22 Lakh to the BMC. The tussle has been going on for 12 years and remains unresolved. As per the sources, due to this, the BMC has not given any new connections to the Western Railway, which needs the connections because of the increase in the capacity of new coaches. Currently, the Western Railway is facing a water shortage of 20 per cent for train operations. Thus, the water is being filled at the next train stops like Surat and Valsad, or wherever the train halts. The dependency on water tankers has increased because the Western Railway did not have enough water connections from the BMC. This has caused more expenditure for the Western Railway. For Dadar terminus, the Western Railway uses 40 water tankers, each water tanker of the capacity of 10,000 litres, which comes down to four lakh litres of water every day. Around eight water tankers of the capacity of 10,000 litres, which comes down to 80,000 litres of water, are required for Dadar station. In total, the Western Railway incurs expenses on 4,80,000 litres of water every day. BMC PRO Tanaji Kamble has denied that there was no water connection at Dadar Railway Station. “Every station has BMC water connection,” he said. Chief Public Relations Officer (CPRO) of Western Railway Vineet Abhishek said, “All efforts are being taken to ensure there is no inconvenience to our passengers.”

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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