After a diametrical journey across India from the eastern coast of the bay of Bengal to the vast Arabian sea in just three days we finally landed amchi Mumbai. After a gusty ride to IGI airport breaking a substantial amount of red lights though my brother sitting by my side was still composed smoking his barhi gold flake, I guess that’s how you become when you have boarded a dozen of international flights being in a profession like merchant navy. And again there were some cheerful faces on the airport with hidden sorrows, with some flying dreams and again I joined them forgetting my own journey and trying being a part of theirs.
The flight was more fun than expected, one of my female colleague’s bag was thrown open at the security check and all the cosmetics I’ve used in my entire life could be seen peeping out of that poor bag. To her embarrassment all bottles with different brands, different colours were out on the anvil and the jokes that followed we’re still laughing on them. As usual there was a desperate attempt to hit on the cutest air hostess in the flight by all of my male pals but her gummy smile pushed all of us back into our seats. One thing I really admire about these air hostesses is how they are able to hold their laugh while doing all those stupid security mock drills when they are obviously laughing in their heads.
After jostling like kids I was able to conquer the window seat from the above mentioned embarrassed colleague of mine, and the first glance down the window took me to the panoramic Aravali mountains. It was a moment when you think you are one lucky soul who gets to witness such a visual ecstasy. Such moments really reinforce my dreams being a great Himalaya fan and an aspiring hiking and mountaineering trainer myself.
Thanks to my new job in TCS I’ve finally arrived in Mumbai, a city which every Indian can relate to for one reason or another. As a kid even I grew up with a dream of going to Mumbai and being a top shot model some day. There’s one more dream I have with Mumbai which is joining the bullet club indie thumpers, mumbai’s own bullet club. But as my brother is still very much in love with his bullet and I don’t seem to have that much of salary that I can buy a bullet of my own, so this dream will have to wait for some time. Much to my amusement and contrary to all the notions I had in my mind due to the much hullaballoo about the city, Mumbai doesn’t seem to be much different from Delhi or other big cites I’ve been to. You can see the same 42424242 easy cabs, the same black and yellow autos, though the autowallahs seem to be more honest and disciplined than delhi. It’s march and Mumbai is hot like anything but the nights are definitely pleasent and much more lively than delhi. You can walk freely at 12 in the night and the Mumbai will walk with you. The “bhaiya” factor is definitely an election agenda as most of the people here like to be addressed here as bhaiya more than “bhaoo”. The city is full of people, there are people everywhere in the queues for auto, for buses, in the malls, on the roads, in the restaurants. The city has definitely brought good luck to me in terms of shopping, I got to buy a jodhpuri bandgala from blackberry for half the price.
The first day at office was really an eyeopener, after a short stint at the picturesque thane location amidst the green shrubs grown in between the working bays we were sent to the real IT bonecushers, the concrete jungles, the skyscrapers where millions of people start working everyday, some quit some keep getting crushed under the same drudgery. There’s a similar dynamic, people gathered outside green glass sky scrapers, smoking in groups, eating Manchurian and noodles, a smile crosses their face when they bitch about their bosses and ex-colleagues and they laugh endlessly on lewd jokes when their worries try to drip down their face. They smoke, they have tea and then they leave.
Mumbai seems to be a lot of struggle but I’m still a part of it. The other day one of my friend called me up and she said she had a dream, a bad bad dream like a nightmare and she was so bewildered she called me up in the middle of the night. In the middle of gulping down my beer I picked up the call and that too on a number I stopped using a long time back and so she narrates the dream after a lot of pestering and her concern of my well being “tabish, you have gone to visit the Arabian sea and you’ve drowned in the sea and a long shark is dragging you in and you’re not able to swim”. I listened, processed the data and the only thing I could fathom was how metaphoric that dream is. I certainly am in the middle of a vast sea and there are a million of carnivores sharks around clenching their jaws into my body, trying to tear my flesh apart and turn me into bones. All I can do is keep swimming as I’ve done for all these years.
