People say u can never live in another place, even in Ur dreams, if u ve lived in Mumbai. Having seen Mumbai in movies, having read about Mumbai in newspapers n novels, having heard about Mumbai from friends n acquaintances n having made a two day visit to the maximum city one year back, I was looking forward to experiencing Mumbai. The first two days were quite odd – I had nothing much to do other than wander around. The entire city was hurrying along in fast motion while I was loitering around in slow motion. The next five days were chaotic, disordered n frenzied but had its own share of interesting experiences. Some of the observations might sound like the usual stuff which u r already familiar with, but I m reinforcing n reiterating them with my first hand experience.
Mumbai is a city of long n serpentine queues – There’s a queue in the railway station, there’s queue waiting for the lifts, u need to stand in a queue to get into a restaurant, there’s a queue to buy a bus ticket, there’s a queue to get into a queue!!!
Mumbai is a city where there’s space for all yet is claustrophobic – This is a city whose population is more than that of Austrailia's, a city which has the space for each one of the populace to live their lives. I feel like floating in a vacuum with endless emptiness around when I do my daily jog thru the marine drive (luckily I m put up in one of the best locations in the city – the place which has earned the sobriquet ‘The queen’s half necklace ‘) , I feel light at heart when I roam around with the Wilson gang, with no regard to anything else. But I feel claustrophobic n violated when I climb into the lift which takes me to the 20th floor of maker towers which houses my office. I feel claustrophobic when I share the space in the local taxi. I feel claustrophobic at a traffic junction, surrounded on all sides by all sorts of vehicles. I feel claustrophobic when I sit inside the cabin in the office.
Mumbai makes u feel small as well as big – Walking amidst and inside the skyscrapers which constitute the manhattan of India, sitting in the corporate office of a major financial institution n interacting with the big shots by communicating in a language where the semantics are constructed out of proprietary jargon, shelling out close to a grand for a dinner ( at times ) , u feel u are important. But when u see a Ferrari and a Lamborghini vrooming side by side, when u hear about the rent your friend’s uncle is paying for a sea-facing flat (which is, bye the way, close to the avg package u get in a b-school) , when u c the 25 odd vintage cars owned by a puna wallah , when u notice that the brands u cherished n wore are being worn by all the madanlals, pyarelals n pannelals……u feel as if u cease to exist.
Mumbai ( or at least Colaba, where I stay ) is a city of extremes – When u look to the right , u c the quaint and old-world building which has been standing the test of time for 150 odd years. When u look to the left, u c the modern n contemporary 30 something storied skyscraper with an architectural brilliance par excellence. When u hear the “vrrrrrrooooooooooom” outside n when u look out thru the windows sometimes u the Ferraris zooming past, other times u c the ‘yellow-black’ cabs “zooming” past. U observe the scores of customers waiting to get into the plush restaurant where the price of an item starts at a miserly Rs 501, u also c the crowd that has gathered around the ‘Chaat wallah’ who has set his base right beside the posh restaurant. U see the cleaners n the sweepers cleaning the roads n the joggers path in the marine drive, a place which gives our eyes a visual treat, but when u walk down the beach u also c the piles of garbage n litter scattered around n feel the stench disturbing ur senses.
Mumbai is a city of long n serpentine queues – There’s a queue in the railway station, there’s queue waiting for the lifts, u need to stand in a queue to get into a restaurant, there’s a queue to buy a bus ticket, there’s a queue to get into a queue!!!
Mumbai is a city where there’s space for all yet is claustrophobic – This is a city whose population is more than that of Austrailia's, a city which has the space for each one of the populace to live their lives. I feel like floating in a vacuum with endless emptiness around when I do my daily jog thru the marine drive (luckily I m put up in one of the best locations in the city – the place which has earned the sobriquet ‘The queen’s half necklace ‘) , I feel light at heart when I roam around with the Wilson gang, with no regard to anything else. But I feel claustrophobic n violated when I climb into the lift which takes me to the 20th floor of maker towers which houses my office. I feel claustrophobic when I share the space in the local taxi. I feel claustrophobic at a traffic junction, surrounded on all sides by all sorts of vehicles. I feel claustrophobic when I sit inside the cabin in the office.
Mumbai makes u feel small as well as big – Walking amidst and inside the skyscrapers which constitute the manhattan of India, sitting in the corporate office of a major financial institution n interacting with the big shots by communicating in a language where the semantics are constructed out of proprietary jargon, shelling out close to a grand for a dinner ( at times ) , u feel u are important. But when u see a Ferrari and a Lamborghini vrooming side by side, when u hear about the rent your friend’s uncle is paying for a sea-facing flat (which is, bye the way, close to the avg package u get in a b-school) , when u c the 25 odd vintage cars owned by a puna wallah , when u notice that the brands u cherished n wore are being worn by all the madanlals, pyarelals n pannelals……u feel as if u cease to exist.
Mumbai ( or at least Colaba, where I stay ) is a city of extremes – When u look to the right , u c the quaint and old-world building which has been standing the test of time for 150 odd years. When u look to the left, u c the modern n contemporary 30 something storied skyscraper with an architectural brilliance par excellence. When u hear the “vrrrrrrooooooooooom” outside n when u look out thru the windows sometimes u the Ferraris zooming past, other times u c the ‘yellow-black’ cabs “zooming” past. U observe the scores of customers waiting to get into the plush restaurant where the price of an item starts at a miserly Rs 501, u also c the crowd that has gathered around the ‘Chaat wallah’ who has set his base right beside the posh restaurant. U see the cleaners n the sweepers cleaning the roads n the joggers path in the marine drive, a place which gives our eyes a visual treat, but when u walk down the beach u also c the piles of garbage n litter scattered around n feel the stench disturbing ur senses.
2 comments:
Dude..This is just the beginnin :)
interesting ... keep on writing
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