A Visiting Resident Indian in Mumbai

I am born and brought up in Mumbai but have recently moved to Delhi. This is the first time I have lived away from Mumbai and I realised how odd it felt to take a holiday to go to the place I called home for a good quarter century of my life. Having never ventured out of the city limits, I guessed having the same city as your janmabhoomi and karmabhoomi forever did that to you.  It was only after I sat in the Rajdhani and overheard a lady from Kolhapur speak in Marathi over the phone that it first struck me, ‘God, it’s been ages since I heard someone talk in my father tongue (my mother tongue being Bengali)!’

On reaching Mumbai Central station, it was nice to get lost in the cacophony of a random crowd, jostling for room, cabs and their relations at the taxi stand. The sheer indifference and anonymity of the person merely 6 inches away from you was something you could get only in this city and I was not complaining right now. All I wanted is to hop into a cab and get home soon.

That’s when the raindrops started falling on my head. Rain! After spending a drought like summer in Delhi with seething temperatures sweating down my back, the gentle pitter patter could not have come at a better time. I welcomed the specks of wetness on my clothes and my hair as I got in to the cab. On the road, the relaxed cabbie kept giving his two bits about the landmarks of the city. He had probably taken me to be an outsider and was happy to entertain me with nuggets about the crore-worth of dahi handi that the local boys had broken for Janmashthami the previous evening. He also confirmed the last minute trimmings of the Ganesh idols to be taken to grace the pandals erected for them all over the city and beyond. He took much pride in elaborating on the extensive arrangements for the Lalbaugcha Raja soon to ascend his throne this Ganesh Chaturthi in the erstwhile mill area of Mumbai city, Lalbaug. For once, I didn’t feel like telling him about my roots and relation to the city. For once, I felt like playing the outsider just to see the city from a newbie’s eyes.

Nothing stops this city, does it? Definitely not filth, floods, festivals or foreign invaders like Kasab who are still rotting in Arthur Road Jail, now famed for his infamous presence within its bastion. Hawkers laying out their business for the day, children trotting in their gumboots on their way to school, wives carrying their shopping baskets out to the market, old men getting together to sip their morning cup of tea at the local chai stall, men clasping their brief cases as they balanced themselves on the edge of a bus entrance, college students giggling past as they shared gossip...it seemed like an endless montage of life passing by. I was lucky. I was on holiday in Mumbai...now it somehow felt nice. No rushing, scrambling, running, skidding, slipping and stressing for me, thank you very much. I reveled in the pure indolence of doing nothing, having no itinerary or agenda, being jobless in this city which has employed me for all the years I have worked till I moved to Delhi. My sanguine state of existence was deemed to last...until the third day of my stay.

The cool breeze, the intermittent showers, home cooked food straight from my Mom’s kitchen, the idyllic greenery around me couldn’t keep me off thinking why wasn’t I out there, doing....something. The electric pace of people around me, the clockwork precision with which they seemed to operate, the functionality that led them to achieve something, the determination that drove them with a purpose...it was infectious. In short, the pulsating energy of the city finally got the better of me and I remembered my old self and urged me to seek her out. So I got stuck in traffic, grumbled about the potholes a bit, smiled when the traffic cops stopped an erring car driver, laughed when someone swore ‘tujhya aaicha gho’ at a careless passerby, bargained at the roadside stalls for everything under the sun from handbags to fancy leggings even while a pesky hawker tried to draw my attention to his new range of Bol Bachchan salwars and engaged in chirpy conversations while catching up with friends at my favourite hangout spots in the city. Finally, the contagious virus of being ‘on the go’ caught up with me and all I could do was bask in the inherent nostalgia it brought on.

Back home, I engaged in idle banter with my maid, reviving words in Marathi spoken ages ago, forgotten only recently. I wondered if it would pour and get flooded on the day I was to leave for Delhi. I sipped ginger tea and enjoyed the cool monsoon breeze on my face. I lay down on my bed and day dreamt without the fan on.  I couldn’t help but recall my hefty electricity bill back in Delhi while my Mom whined that she hadn’t been able to use the AC all of summer because it just wasn’t so hot!

And then, all of a sudden, it was time to pack all the memories- the sights, sounds and smells that were truly, madly and deeply Mumbai.  I took a deep breath and kissed my beloved city goodbye with a heavy heart. After all, I may be a newly nourished Delhiite but at the core, I will always be an intrinsically modelled Mumbaikar!