Think Mumbai and the first phrase that comes to mind is City of Dreams. However, for me Mumbai was not so much a dream as it was a reality check; a city where you are always awake trying to work the corporate ladder and the only dreams you have are of grabbing a window seat on the train ride back home.
Moving to the city six years ago, with goodbyes from loving grandparents, 14 cousins and a few dogs, the first reality check was the next morning, when I, all pepped up for the first day of college, faced a firm ‘No Madam’ from the auto driver. This was one of the many NOs I would get. NO I wasn’t best friends with my roommate, NO making friends in college wasn’t as easy as in the movies. NO washing my own laundry wasn’t fun and nor were shoestring budgets glamorous. Mumbai was an eye-opener for the comfort junkie that I was and the ride was far from the fun ‘city of dreams’ one that I had been expecting.
Mumbai, like all bitter-sweet things, took time for me to get used to. It was weeks before I could get into a train without being pushed right back onto the platform. It took me time to learn the pace of Mumbai. I learned to plead and make a sorry face when caught without a ticket, and not mentally kick the auto driver each time I heard a ‘No Madam’ (10,512 times and counting). I learned to calculate the Mumbai way, in minutes and not miles. Everything is either five minutes away or 10 and never a mile or two. I learned that you could sleep quite soundly amidst a party going on next door, practically join in on the conversations you hear through the thin walls and still not know their names after six whole years!
However, not all lessons came easy. The first and most painful one was saving money. Living on the crossroads of Hill Road and Linking Road, shopping was my constant calling; however, there were bills to be paid and rent to be handed over. I learned to work the shoestring budget and while there were days when I had no food but a new book to devour, I still enjoyed the city life.
The city was a whole lot of firsts for me as well. But not the kinds I had expected. Sleeping hungry was one, feeling the depths of loneliness was another. No matter how glamorous the city seems, it was here that I truly felt what it was to be lonely. Living with a roommate who worked late nights and 80 per cent of friends who were localities, I have never missed my family more. But I have also learned to love the loneliness and embrace it because that is the only way in the city (plus crying about missing your family will lose you friends like nothing else will).
Mumbai wasn’t so much about discovering, but rather creating myself. I learned to love the fashion and the vibes, the overcrowded trains and the starless skies, the people and the snubs and most of all the extremities. I’ve made friends with people who love me to bits and I’ve even made friends with people who get critical the first chance they get. I’ve been insanely happy certain days only to be put off the next. I’ve been so angry that I want to pull out my wand and utter ‘Petrificus Totalus’ (yeah, Harry Potter is my religion) and I’ve also cried along with people I absolutely hate.
But in the midst of it all, each time I pause and think, I feel a tingle, the kind you feel when a childhood dream comes true. A dream of living in Mumbai, being independent and writing for a living. So yeah, while the good parts of my expectations about Mumbai never materialised – owning a house overlooking the sea, partying out with friends every night, having so much money that I stop looking at price tags – all the bad ones did – shoestring budgets, tired nights and a house tucked away somewhere in the traffic.
But I ain’t complaining because the bad things made me who I am and they are the ones that make me laugh on tipsy nights and give me hope for a better morning, tomorrow in Mumbai.
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