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Thursday, September 18, 2008.

Mumbai, India

 

 

Once again, in maximum city, I was dying to get out and savour what I call the unmistakable Bombay Buzz, with the familiar, yet intoxicating breeze blowing across from me. This city has the charm that makes you fall in love with it, despite the obvious (over)crowd and the painful public transportation. There’s this lively energy ebbing from all corners, that make you feel every bit a part if this jamboree, now called Mumbai.

 

‘What’s in a name?’ Supposedly a lot, if you owe any allegiance to the many Senas filling every black hole that D-company evacuated over time. The terror, in a different form, is still alive; although the original has just set base elsewhere, impacting us just like before.

 

The city of dreams, as it has been since decades, snakes its way from the woods of Borivali up north to the pebbled streets of Colaba down south, enchanting all; unmindful of whether you live at Dharavi or Altamount Road. Today, after office, where I am doing my internship with two of my friends, we decided to move about the city. To soak in its charms and see it up close, we decided to tread our way on foot. From Worli to Malabar Hills, enroute to Girgaum Chowpaty and Nariman Point, we thought would be great fun. The only catch was we didn’t know the route. However, instead of acting as a dampener, it aroused us even more towards doing this. Anyway, we knew we had to keep on treading towards the south.

 

 

So we set forth, me and Gaurav, his camera, and a grin each on our faces. It was 6.30 in the evening; and we didn’t want to come back till it was 12. The first stop we would make, we decided was at Atria Mall, where Rolls Royce has a showroom. The last time I had seen a Rolls Royce was at Nehru Place in Delhi in July, and I was awestruck. Wanting to satiate that eagerness to see the royal machine in all its splendour made us take a detour, covering a kilometer more than we had originally planned. We reached there in around twenty minutes, blood pumping up our lungs, adding to the excitement. It all turned a little gloomy; when we found that the showroom had lost its glory for a while. The dream machine wasn’t there at that moment. Smarting at my decision of taking this route, we continued hoping the journey would turn out to be an expedition henceforth, with us exploring and discovering life in this lively city.

 

There we were, in no time near the waterfront overlooking the very peaceful Haji Ali Dargah. More on that in a while. Currently I was enthused with the National Sports Club of India. Always wanting to be sportsperson and finding little support in terms of talent inherent, it had become a dream. So I wanted myself immortalized in front of the arena, the National Sports Club of India. Having satisfied my appetite, we marched forward, however not before clicking the magical luminance of Haji Ali; praying all the wile for a safer, beautiful world.

 

Haji Ali Dargah

 

 

While crossing Haji Ali, we came across the famous juice centre. I still remember the day when we had some juice here. I don’t remember which. How could I? All that was left imprinted in my mind was the exorbitant price. Rs 150 a glass! But I have to admit, that was fun. Not wanting to relive that fun (for obvious reasons), we headed south, looking up at the heights, imagining the view of the sea those apartments offered. Wish I could some day own such an apartment, overlooking the vast turquoise, sitting with my beloved, sipping coffee, recalling this very day!

 

My dream was broken with the loud honk of the bus right in front of me. There I ran to safety, taking evasive action, saving myself for the dream to come true. And then we continued. Soon we were at a cross road. Didn’t know which way to go. There my map sense was activated and I decided to keep ourselves as close to the sea as possible, since our mission was to reach Malabar Hills first. So we rolled on to the road which took us to Breach Candy. Appreciating the glimpses that the many art galleries offered on route, we came across a garden after we had crossed the US Consulate. Lovers of the sea, as we always were, we dashed inside, wanting to catch a glimpse of the waves, aware at the back of our minds how the crashing waves and the breeze could energize us like nothing else. To our dismay, the sea was quite a distance. But the waves still reverberated through the rocks that lay in between. Our faces washed by the breeze, we continued. The next stop, it had to be Hanging Gardens. I was famished, yet wanted to eat only after the mission was accomplished. Had I known the pastry joint we had seen at Breach Candy offered the yummiest varieties (as Jay told me later); my mission would surely have been delayed without the slightest of guilt. Anyway, we continued.

 

Walking and window shopping, all of a sudden we came across a steep elevation. Woohooo! We had reached Malabar Hills, on foot, from Worli! With renewed vigour we started our journey up the hill. Soaking in the breathtaking view that the roads and buildings offered, going down in our eyes, with every step that we took. Within no time, we were on the gates of the Hanging Gardens. It was 8.15, and the gardens on both sides of the road were open till 9. So we dashed into Kamala Nehru Park, which offered tantalizing views of Chowpatty and Marine Drive. It surely did. Flummoxed, yet on top of the world, we soaked in the view. It was breathtaking. The lights, the beach, the water. And we were there, right on top of the world. I felt I could sue Bajaj. It was here that I Felt Like God!!! Soon we were joined by the ever smiling Sandy, who had made the grand Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus his home away from home these days for some obvious reasons.

Chowpatty- view from Malabar Hills

Marine Drive- view from Malabar Hills

 

Together we clicked, we chatted. Out of curiosity, I and Gaurav roamed through the Hanging Gardens on the opposite side too, trying to figure out why it was called Hanging Gardens. Whatever be the reason, the place was surely as beautiful as it could have been in Babylon. It was like an oasis in the concrete jungle called Mumbai, a whiff of fresh air, an unmistakable delight.

 

The gardens closed, and totally starved, we headed downwards to the land of the mortals, knowing we would enjoy that too. As we came down, on Marine Drive, there was one thing that caught my eye, and for all the rustic humour I could muster, I said, “Look there. The impact of the Global Financial Crisis. AIG can’t even light its glow sign.” PJ by any figment of imagination, yet a telling comment. AIG and numerous others can actually stop glowing such sign-boards and save electricity, along with valuable cash. Not that I am against outdoor advertising. Yet there are a few things that can be avoided, like neon glow signs. Why not street lights do the trick for you?

 

AIG- (not) illuminated

 

Nevertheless, we continued. Once we reached Chowpatty, it was a different ball game altogether. We were right in front of the majestic sea, with the beautifully curved marine Drive and the Bombay heights making for an incredible view. I would have loved it, but for the extraordinary amount of garbage making the ocean cry. I felt it was asking me to rescue it. I felt helpless. Amid all our religious fervour, we somewhere forget that nature is our god too. How could we, in the name of the Lord, the wisest of them all, Ganpati, do this to our lands, our seas. I felt small. I felt helpless.

 

Happy and sad at the same time, I renewed my vow to not litter any public place, and contribute thus in my own small way. I hope all realize this and keep our lovely cities and our planet as beautiful as they really are.

 

Content with the journey and exhausted with the walk, we had dinner and came back, this time in a bus. My sleep was deep and peaceful.

 

Hoping to do this again, some other day. Signing off for now.