I gather anything that lasts in your mind for longer than trivial details of routine, should be categorized as a monumental moment worth mention in the blog-spot. My romance with blogging has not quite kicked off as yet….however 3 years ago in the rush and madness of sweat, urgency and still some endless zeal, began another love story , a
bond, a romance still strong in my heart- that between Mumbai and Me.
Like most good romantic stories it started off with hatred going strong….I am sure most of you would concur, that life does not feel particularly uplifted when everyone around seems to be rushing for somewhere and is so lost that ouch! Stamping your foot does not quite get noticed…Wading your way through any road close to the station calls for extra- ordinary skills of – “Find an empty spot and rush for it and fight fight your way till u recede and give up!!” Also making it for an 11.01 train is as important as winning the Olympics and intact limbs (who cares!!) Cos the next one is at 11.05 (4 whole precious minutes of battling time wasted). Being short in locals ensures you get to smell variety of arm-pits wondering if deodorants manufacturers ever had a position for – “smell-icalist” who could actually help them list down the variants they need to battle.
Anyways clean roads, empty roads, your own space, quiet walk -these were like alien terms in this city and I just hated every moment I had to live here. Then came the monsoons- pitter patter rain drops…Living in the industrial belt did not quite help...I was contemplating buying a boat to ease me off some worries in life. Keeping a spare in office was a trick I had not quite mastered and wondered why I was the only idiot who looked wet, soggy and rainy in any meeting at work.
But amidst all of this discomfort somewhere I started to fall in love too …with the energy, activity, chaos and new life I had found for myself. It was the sort of life I had always dreamt of having…but had never imagined would be…
It was probably in the quiet walks in the noise at Marine Drive, long waits in endless queues for dinner at a favorite restaurant or the long rides on the quintessential aircraft that took me across town – The Bajaj Priya. It blossomed I gather, with the excitement of living alone, independent doing crazy things like singing at 1.00 am to our neighbors surprise, chatting by the window, running miles across just to be able to watch a movie…Trying our luck at a play when all tickets were sold out…and actually getting to watch it… (Persistence and pleading pays folks!!) It’s in the numerous streets traversed, the doing nothing, the wonderful house-mate, the friends made and the experiences shared...
From the summer of May when I started as an outsider, to the rains in August – 3 years, so much was lived, felt and experienced - I was transformed. When boarding that last flight back to the city which was home – Bangalore …I felt I did not belong anywhere anymore and it felt like the longest journey made. Being back here after a year again…when I stare at the same building, roads and people, all comes back in a flash and I wish that in this one moment I can take back all that I lived and loved …but its probably only so much that one can hold on to…and only so much one can live….
I thought i started trying to hold a handful .....
But i am left with only "A speck of sand in my hands…"
