Bombay Days: A beginning

“There will be lot of traffic, an almost insane crowd, so be careful.” An experienced friend of mine advised when I was sitting with him a day ahead of my departure to this city of dreams. I replied with a little hubris of a newly employed MBA student, “dost, I am flying. Not going by train. So don’t worry.”

His experienced face curved a smile, perhaps at my naiveté. “There is not much of a difference in Mumbai, between the two.”   I did not pay much attention to this short remark and bid my adieu to him. It was only early next morning that I realized what he meant when he said that there is not much of a difference between a railway station and an airport when we come to Bombay.

To a first timer, it is chaotic, confusing, crowded and even callous all at once. This makes one go numb for a few minutes, however, as soon as one merges with that crowd, some of the things start making sense.  The best part of this crowd is that it gives ample space to everyone to find an identity. Whatever you are, wherever you are from, you will be able to relate with this crowd if you just have the knack to look around and find a link that can connect you to this city.

One may find links to connect to this city in multiple ways. The first morning it makes one think that perhaps the city wakes up way lot earlier than one does. This realization may come through the newspaper guy, or the professional tea-stall owners neatly ready as if they are there since long time, or the vendors selling flowers or boys cleaning vehicles or taxi drivers busy reading newspapers. It is only after some days that a newcomer realizes that this city perhaps, never sleeps.   

Initial days go in adjusting with the pace of this place. Ones with low self confidence will always feel being overtaken by almost everyone every moment. Not being able to board a desired compartment of the local train seems like a defeat to the really sensitive ones, however slowly it dawns that, this happens to everyone.  

Soon pace of local trains replace the pace of your life. One learns that trains are the best places to read newspapers or listen to music. Wisdom of travelling against the crowd is also enlightening. This one adjustment puts the newcomer rookie at par with some of the more experienced lot. Just as the rookie is celebrating this victory over the pace, some further nuances start surfacing.  And so the sense of victory starts fading a little bit, giving way to new dissatisfactions and challenges to overcome.

One learns that taxi-drivers won’t come for short distances easily and taking care of one’s belongings in trains is easier said than done.  And though you have got used to the pace, the travelling does take a toll on health in some way or the other. Slowly the fascination for WADA-PAV goes away and emerges the side effects of its overdose taken in first phase. J Humidity too starts irritating and so does frequent chants in local language, at every now and then.  

However, there is one thing which the newcomer has fully experienced by now, that is the complete freedom that the city offers to explore itself.  As one opens up a little the city just spreads its lap and lets you in, it allows one the most complete form of freedom of discovery.  

This freedom is addictive, in coming articles we shall explore various ways in which this addiction plays out.  

What I would love to learn from Virat Kohli

First thing you notice of this man is that if he doesn’t like something, he will swear at it. Regardless of the fact that camera may be focusing at him or not.

I was having a dinner with a cricketer friend of mine and he told me that Virat will cross the heights that Sachin has set for cricketing world. Being an ardent fan of Sachin, I told him that it was too early to say that with any confidence. We did not argue the matter further on statistics and facts, but a striking similarity between the two crossed my mind.

Apart from the cricketing abilities, both of them have something else in similar. Both of them had bounced back even after facing one of the most severe blows of life, death of their fathers. While Sachin’s story of scoring a hundred in the 1999 world cup soon after he returned from performing the last rites of his father is well known to the world. Little is known about Virat’s story.

He was playing for delhi when he got a news of his father’s death. And despite having been up for the most part of night, he came to ground next morning after performing the last rites. His innings of 90 runs helped his side saving a game against Karnataka.

It is correct that the stage at which both were playing were different, they may have been of different ages when the tragedy hit them, however what is common is that even in the toughest of the time both kept their commitment to cricket intact.   

I often wonder if we can keep the same level of commitment to whatever work that we are doing or not. Or should we do only that work for which we can keep this level of commitment? The answer to this question lies in the first lines of this piece.

Unless we have the courage to swear at things we dislike, we have the courage to say no, we have the courage to express the dislike, we have the guts to reject, we will perhaps never be able to find or search what we really like or work towards changing those that we dislike or despise.

I may not learn any style, looks, cricketing skills from him, but I certainly wish to learn this one quality from Virat Kohli. J

Bombay days: Prelude

There are no buildings here that remind one of the British architecture, there is no apparent awe when you tell someone that you live in “South” of the city. For people here, south has only one meaning perhaps. Most importantly, there is no marine drive. And that large sea facing you and helping you gulp down whatever that life has to throw at you.

There is also no “Local”, to help you keep running away from all those things you wish you had never faced.  Indeed I miss those days when I just used to board at Churchgate, get down at Andheri only to board again from there, just to kill the time and get some solace.

As I discussed all that I miss about Mumbai, the place where I had stayed for brief yet beautiful span of 8 months of my life, with a friend of mine over phone. She reverted by saying why don’t you explore Bengaluru a little. She sounded right, I had been in this city for about 4 months but had not explored it that well. And thus I was forced to make this comparison which I had purposefully delayed.

“But Bombay is Bombay” I would say. “You would never know what this city has to present to you until you move around” she retorted with a reason. Pursued by this logical and intelligent sounding argument I decided to give this city a chance. I moved around the city with a few friends, went to expensive restaurants, amusement parks, tourist spots. But to no avail. The memories carved out by Bombay would still outweigh this surface level delight that I experienced in Bengaluru.

No doubt on the fact that Bengaluru as a city is also very good; once the metro comes up in full shape it would be even better. Climate is very pleasing; there is not so much humidity as one finds in Mumbai. And to some people it is also a lot more comforting a place than Bombay.

Perhaps it’s the iconic status that I associate with Mumbai or the romanticism resulting from Bollywood image that city carries, or perhaps the awe of the rich and famous.  But somehow, somewhere Bombay seems a little more attractive as a place.

Though I have everything here in  Bengaluru, friends, work, apartment to stay, restaurants, amusement parks etc, something seems amiss.

It could be any of the things that I had been fascinated with, locals, nameless crowd in which I can easily merge and lose the burden of my identity, sea that takes in everything, romantic marine drive….. Or just the impression that comes to my mind when I hear, “Bombay”.

Impression, it is indeed an amusing thing, so intangible yet so strong in force, impact and effect on our mind. In coming pieces of this series, I intend to understand this love that some of us have for that city which once considered us as their residents. For a city which taught us to run and made us feel as if we were flying even when we were perhaps barely crawling.

For that place which still has its arms open for us to walk in…...