Under the dim street lamp, at ten in the night, he was busy with his
business. People walked past with intent and purpose. Horns blared intermittently,
autos swerved inches away from each other and children sold books, toys,
flowers… the Instagram images swirls and mixes in my consciousness and I
remember I had sighed that day.
It was almost twelve years back when we were to relocate to the busy
city of Mumbai from the smaller city of Hyderabad. I was leaving a settled
life, leaving behind the security of the umbrella of known faces, friends and
social life.
Don’t get me wrong, I love moving to new places! The excitement of
a new place always gives me a high. This time it was major move with two
growing children and an "older tending towards inflexibility"-mind.
We had come house hunting. From a lovely sprawling bungalow with
greenery all around we were looking at tiny flats at exorbitant rates. Where
would my furniture fit in? where would I
park my car? My plants! My mind shrieked at me. I was new to the world of
brokers. How they would show you the worst flats first and then take you to
better flats if you were not satisfied. I could write a book on house hunting
in Mumbai! It is a tortuous and torturous!
This was the third day in the city. We were waiting for the broker to
show us another house. We had already seen thirty houses! (I am not exaggerating)
I had walked up countless stairways and trundled over million lifts. Looked at
supposed “Views”, heard about the accessibility of the area, and the cool
evening breeze. It was pre-monsoon and at ten in the night I was drenched in
sweat. The breeze was there but was filled with the smell of dried fish.
My traumatized mind was spiralling its way downwards and I wanted to
rush back home and cover myself with the blanket and squirrel down into a world
of comfort and security. But reality is a great warning bell, I knew I had to
accept change and in it lies movement and growth. But at that moment twelve or
so years back I was in turmoil.
As we waited, my worse half got me a glass of hot tea from the man under
the street light.
If there is heaven inside hell then this was it! It was hot and sweet
and it was like half a glass, but the energy and enthusiasm it put inside me is
a marvel I still cannot explain!
To cut a long story short we found our dream house and moved in and have
lived in this city till now except for a short stint of two years when we had
moved out.
I don’t know about the city, but I have changed a lot in the time I have
spent here. There are a lot of negatives but the positives outweigh them. The traffic
and flyovers have multiplied, but the children selling stuff at signal lights
continue. Plenty of slum rehabilitation going on but plenty of new slums
mushrooming. The traffic police carry Wi-Fi credit card accepters to get fines
but the stealthily rolled hundred rupee notes still works! I have come to accept
the warmth of the people here. Despite all the politicians fuelling tension
amongst community and races, if you need help, someone will help. I have twice
fractured my ankle in this city (Due to the rotten road work!) but both times I
have been helped by strangers to get back home. I have come to appreciate the
vast variety of people who call this there home. I have talked to a lot of
migrants who come to work here. The hope and desire that this city fuels are amazing.
There is nothing you cannot get here. There is a perpetual shortage of
time but even in this chaos someone will give you a little time. The city never
sleeps. Every time I come back here from a holiday I am disappointed at the
dirt, crowd and noise but I wonder at this machine of humanity which goes on in
spite of itself.
I do not love the city. I always long for my mountains and a noiseless
world. But as we go to pick up our daughter from her class I look forward to having
that glass of “Cutting Chai” (half glass of hot sweet tea!) and I feel that
life is all about this cutting chai. I think I am now a veteran “cutting chai”
taster. I have had it from Nariman point in the south to Thane in the north. (The
best one is near the station in Dadar).
In this decade of watching Mumbai change from Bombay (From the side-lines
of course!) I have found my comfort in this glass of pep talk which no psychiatrist
could ever give me.
