Bye Bye Bombay

This is not an ode to the city I love, neither is this a farewell letter. Before you read further, let me tell you, I’m now into my last week in Mumbai. Well, at least for the next 5 years, I’ll be living in Delhi to study law. I don’t know why I am writing this. Hell I don’t know what this is. Take it as my rambling if thy shalt will.

It’s a funny feeling. Moving. The verb, the word but mostly the feeling. It’s not just that you’ll be leaving behind a life that you’ve carefully built. But you’ll be leaving it behind for something new, something unfamiliar.18 years of my life, my friends, my love, my city, and my way of living, everything, gone. It’s a huge thing because of many reasons. In life, we never realise it, but it is always what that is around us builds us. Bombay, the city I was born in, the city I lived my childhood in, the city I hit teenage in, the city in which I turned 18,the city that was always my solace, the city that taught me life, the city that punished me, the city that nurtured me. Bombay was always there for me. I’ll specially miss sitting by Marine Drive or Worli Seaface,enjoying my timeout from life, staring blankly at the sea. If you haven’t already done that, do it. Just for a few minutes. Stare into the vastness and the far far away expanse. Think of nothing. Just stare. I proudly say that the city always was my first love. Today, with just a few days left before my flight to Delhi, I have no words to say to it. There is so much to do, so much to say, yet no time. I feel like I’m being torn away from it, piece by piece. A few days ago, I saw this picture which put my turbulence in words.

Mumbai is a city. Bombay is an emotion.

It is true folks. I’m leaving Mumbai but the Bombay shall always be in me, and right now, it is bubbling up via this post, and I am unabashed when I say I don’t want to bottle it up.

People always yearn for security. That’s the entire point of our life. To lead a secure life. For a just emancipated adult, my parents were my umbrella, my armour and my everything. I remember those tiny fleeting moments when they were there for me. Trust me; they are the ones you remember and not the major ones. In Delhi, I’ll be alone. Yes, we live in the 21st century, so we have phones, SMSes, BBM, Whatsapp, e-mails, letters, Skype and all those other mediums which reduce the distance between people. But the problem is that they can never remove the distance, only reduce it. However close I may feel, the brutal cold truth would be that I am thousands of kilometres away in Delhi while they’ll be in Mumbai, and not with me physically. That’s just something I’ll have to deal with, accept and move on.

Friends. Dost. The word rings like a hollow bell. They complete you. Always do. Suddenly, they won’t be a phone call away. I won’t be running into them at Kandivali station. No sir .I admit I have never been the friend I could have been, but they have and that makes all the difference in the world. Honestly I’m scared. What happens from here? Where does life take us? We still stay the same way? Things change? Ugh, this is mind numbing. It has always been this way; we have always been a call away. Not anymore. I won’t be able to give them a call and pop over to their place. They won’t be able to give me a call and meet me at the McDonald’s near Andheri and Kandivali stations(which they know are my second favourite place in the world to meet, after the stations themselves). We might drift apart, partly because of me, partly because of them. I’ll make new friends and they’ll make new ones as well. But all I hope for is a status quo. No change. Stability is nice

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sum up all the emotions I’m feeling in one post and relax, I don’t intend to write a second post on this. All I wanted to do was put my emotions and rather on a broader outlook, almost every Mumbaikar who is leaving Bombay ‘s feelings into a post, because I understand how hard it is to articulate them.

The heart is a fickle thing and it hates change. But at the end of the day, the clock ticks on, the date changes, the world sleeps and awakes anew, and so shall I, with a hope, and only that hope to lead me on.

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Aamchi Mumbai Aahe

Mumbai railway stations are a delightful treat to the eye. People of varied backgrounds, ages and genders can be seen in an ironic amicable but fierce manner. Rush hours resemble battlefields, with hundreds of people fighting for a place in compartments made for some 70 odd people. However, stations provide a brilliant school for learning new experiences via human actions.

Crowded Mumbai Local Train


Waiting for a train, usually does not count for more than 10 minutes owing to the frequency and number of trains. I usually plug in to my iPod and gaze around and I was indeed doing the same when I heard the train coming and I stepped back because it was not the one I wished to board. Now, I stood and saw as people poured out like ants rushing for a jar of honey. In the midst of all this, I saw a beautiful scene. A blind old man was trying to board the train but could not find the handicap compartment. A man, who had clambered onto the train with great difficulty, got down and guided the old man to the handicap compartment. This scene was however ruined moments later when he re boarded the train. He was dangling by the door when the train started and a young man came dashing out of nowhere to board the train. It was obvious that he really needed to take that train because trains ran at an average of like say every 3 minutes. Instead of helping the man by pulling him onto the train, he blankly stared at the running man as if he loathed him. The man could only pant and give dirty looks to the train as it crooned into the distance.

I am not here commenting on the ironic yet contrasting nature of these actions. What I wish to highlight is the unique spirit the city and its citizens have which makes us different from the hoard of metropolitan cities. Mumbai always stands out for its free spirit which exemplifies revelry. Throw us into any situation and we bounce back. No tragedy can stop us from going back to life but at the same time no happy moment can tackle our grief. Sapno ki nagri is a perfectly apt term to describe Mumbai and its citizen because it is indeed on dreams, that our city and we ourselves live our lives.


 Athi me jaato!

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