May
02, 2016, Monday, 19.30 hours - I land in Mumbai to spend a month with my
Sister. “Haanji” changing to “Kaye” and in disgust I squirted my snooty Delhi
nose.
Mumbai
unlike Delhi is not a pretty city to look at, infrastructure is a mess,
buildings are dilapidated, green is scarce, roads are colloquial for pedestrian
walks, heritage architecture is amiss, the demography doesn’t boast of the best
‘looks’ in the country. Then why is this city a home to many, a dream for more?
At 1ish
in the night when my Starbucks addict Sister said, ‘let’s go for a coffee?’, I
looked at her in bewilderment. In the rickshaw, at 1.30 am, 2 girls, wearing
shorts, head to Hiranandani Complex, for a coffee. PCR though on my speed dial.
On reaching Hiranandani, I was taken for a surprise. Being from Delhi, women,
alone, wee hours in the night, dressed casually, gait even more casual, are a
series of together-words I don’t relate to. In a very long time, I felt normal
and shackles-less, as much as men in the country feel.
Using
public transport has been my biggest learning lesson in Mumbai. They say you
learn more from people than from paper. Well, true. The autowallahs have been
extremely welcoming and not once did I catch anyone sneakily using the rear view
mirror for the intrusive male gaze. It
surprises me how money and means to money are so piously embedded in the food
chain here. Change be it be Re 1 or Rs. 9 were always given, without any delay.
Dignity of labour advocated and practiced.
Sitting,
cross legged, wearing a dress, on Carter Road Promenade, I enjoyed the Bombay
sunset and the calm ocean without worrying about whether my upper thighs were
on display. It’s not the city is on a run and no one has time to sit and stare,
it’s just that women anatomy is not an object of stare. Covering up myself with
a stole while cabbing it and wearing a dress is a norm in Delhi but Mumbai…..
Breasts, legs and buttocks are a part of the entire woman population in the
country and hence ordinary- Kudos Mumbai for resonating this fact. Thank you,
Mumbai for making me proud of my adornments, my womanhood, rather than being
conscious of it and guarding it out of guilt.
Something
that makes us very proud of Delhi is that the city looks ‘rich’. The slums are ‘sheltered’
and are not easily visible to the passerby. On the contrary, Bombay slums,
chawls are in your face. Once I stayed in Bombay I understood the synergies.
Acceptance! Acceptance of all the people, no matter where they come from and
where they go, Mumbai is as much theirs as that of the aristocratic class’. What ‘shosha’
is to Delhi is ‘dream for one and all’ is to Mumbai.
You
know the times that we live in where everything and everyone is taken with a
pinch of salt and trust issues are an epidemic, Mumbai ‘Human’ is a little out
of ordinary. When lost on the road (which is typical of me) and a car stopped
by to help, I trusted. When a man approached to strike a casual conversation in a pub,
I trusted. When the autowallah, at 11.30 pm, asked if he should take another
route (which I wasn’t acquainted with) because Saki Naka was choc blocked, I
trusted. And my leap of faith was not molested once.
There
is another aspect about Bombay- of being non-judgemental. So when I saw a 60-year-old
elderly woman taking swimming lessons with enthusiasm, a homosexual couple
leaning against each other while watching the sun set on Marine Drive, television
celebrities hitching an auto ride, a transgender enjoying cafe latte at Café Coffee
Day with no inhibition, a small Deepika from the slums looking and smiling at Deepika Padukone’s
hoarding thinking, ‘One Day’, I learnt that life is not barred by age, sex, class,
bank balance. Life is a potpourri of emotions, experiences, dreams and learnings (from both success and failure). At the end, life is to be lived not suffered.
Uptill
living in Mumbai, I thought only Punjab could boast of ‘Happy Cheerful People’.
But Bombay, you are a city of happy emotions. Gleaming faces everywhere. Rage,
cussing, honking- I hardly witnessed here. Not that struggles here are any less
but somehow the calm of the ocean has rubbed on people. Even with worst
episodes of trafucked, I did not witness the atrocious Delhi noise pollution. Howsoever, an average Mumbaikar is, whether living in pigeon holes or in sky rises, whether
raving at fine dining or quenching the hunger with vada pav, whether partying
at the high end clubs or enjoying a ‘bhutta’ on Bandstand, smiling is their
adrenaline rush.
Yeah!
So this is me. Delhi Girl who hated Bombay during her flying visits but one
month of staying here and this city has grown on me. Grown to the extent that I don’t wish
to go back. Made new friends, reconnected with old, introspected on my Delhi
glutton, imbibed the Bombay ambition and simplicity. Though I still like to
dress up, unlike the casual Bombay and love Hindi music instead of techno, but
there is so much of Bombay that I shall take back.
Thank
you, Bombay! For letting me experience the free bird escapades, for letting me to not be conscious of my woman body, for trusting the men specie when they acknowledge
my presence, for helping me shun my prejudices and for letting me understand
the power of dream and struggles.
With
Love!
Best always.
