I've been in Mumbai and dying to write every day. There's a lot to write, and a lot of resistance and stalling off too, but I'll try and remember everything about this last one week.
Mumbai is colossal. It's from everywhere to everywhere and why I know it so much is because I've travelled a good deal in this time. Office is in Fort, the towner side of Mumbai, and home is somewhere in the neck of Andheri East.
I take a walk to the bus station, take a bus, take a train and take a walk. The commute divides in 3 legs. And walking is the best, which is to say that the train and bus are nightmarish and ordealish in any combination. Everyday is a new day. In which any generalization could be sweeping. One day the bus or the train journey manageable and the next day i'm disposed to thinking otherwise. I have to say I havn't encountered the most humble people in Mumbai. They scorn all the time. Or I think, it could be just me. They know that crowd is a commute reality but they still sulk at others. They know that you're being pushed by someone else in the train from behind, but they will still mutter something completely incomprehensible in Marathi and make you feel like an outsider. I daresay I feel like one here. So train's been a little unwelcoming in that sense.
I dread Dadar station like lightning. My fingers cross in hope that somehow we can pass it by, without stopping. I love it at other times in hope that it comes 5 minutes too soon and people get off the train.
Fragrances, aromas, stinks mix everywhere. The fish stench on CST skilfully transforms into the shoe-polish smell and then the collective odours of the shampoos and powders and deodorants people use.
Queues are rampant. From everywhere to everywhere again. But people don't complain. Oh, no, they don't complain. I'm told they revel in this discomfort, or should I call it rut. It's everyday for them is fine, but it's fine it's everyday for them. Standing in the bus I felt like a soldier one day. Then I looked at the other lady standing too and I didn't think she would complain and think of herself as brave. When I do manage to find a place, people hit my head all the time. Sometimes their crotches are so close, but it's nothing to worry about.
People also mock here. One day I waited for the bus for 15 minutes and it came, stopped for exactly 2 seconds, and left without me. I stood at the stop in shock. Looked around to see some people smirk. Yesterday, I stepped on dung, fresh from the oven, and I looked around again to see people smirk. They laugh at my complaints of distance, of noise, of people.
But it's all played in the mind. If I get used to it, I get used to it. Besides not having a definite time frame in mind of how long I might have to repeat this abominable ritual is comforting. It keeps one from breaking down everyday. There is comfort in Zoo's and Minkie's parenting and encouragement in all combinations. There's some consolation also in the cooler office. There's definite solace in mom-dad's conviction and then there's time.
Weekend was fun and lazy with Zoo. Now she'll be gone for the weekend. Minkie will be gone too for the trek. But it's all good. I have some catching up to do and some things to be gotten in order.
Later
