Mumbai, like an ocean, has enveloped me. There’s something about
its trains, its rains, its blasphemous crowds that bear this uncanny knack of
yanking the survivor/ the rogue out of you. And I, ahem, have survived! I have survived
flurried train-station-mini-stampedes, despicable office creeps, back breaking ‘no-maid’
days, laundry avalanches, crash and burn accidents with people while taking a
de-tour whilst scurrying down the Dadar bridge en-route to office. Yes, Mumbai
has drawn me in, without admonitions, wrapped me in a bubble, all while
nudging me to try a little harder each time, every time.
The city is a far cry from all trite adjectives used to
describe it - hurried it is, fast-moving it is - but Mumbai is also warm and
delicious, enticing and scandalous. It is what you make of it, its misgivings,
its idiosyncrasies, its irreverence and all.
Its vagaries are manifold. Its annoyances several, but there
is something inexplicable about the city that ties you to it with a long,
invisible chord, and makes love for it grow roots rampant in your heart.
Sweet, aching are the million bindings
that bind me to it, moulding me, breaking me, and re-shaping me in a manner
that each life chapter bereft of its underpinnings; each story 'un-punctuated' by
its vicissitudes seem insipid, unexciting.
My life here (as blah as it sounds) is a cocktail of long
sojourns, aching heartbreaks, jocund friendships, and breathless detours and I, intend
to gulp it with fervour while it lasts!
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