Enough has been said and written about this glorious city that I have chosen to call home. If you haven’t lived in Bombay, you might even think these are exaggerated claims. You might just dismiss it off as media hype when you hear about the now famous spirit of Bombay and the so called Bombay culture. What can after all lie beneath that sheath of pollution, traffic snarls, teeming slums and prohibitive living expenses? I have seen many a young white collar executive throw away a prospective career after a less than brief affair with the local trains and cramped living spaces of Bombay, taking refuge in the comfort of safer havens like Bangalore and Hyderabad.
At the same time, I am amazed at the trainloads of people who descend on this city every day from hinterlands all over the country, their life possession clutched compactly in the crook of their arm, armed with little else but hopes in their hearts. Legend has it that if there is one thing a person can be sure of in this city, it is the comfort that he will never go to sleep hungry at the end of the day.
I see this hope on the face of every Mumbaikar as I travel to work every day, come rain or sunshine, night or day, joy or sorrow.
Today the rain gods were mercilessly wrecking havoc on the city, but for the Mumbaikar, it is business as usual...
I see a hopeful salesman on a motorbike, his crisp ‘salesmanly’ attire covered from head to toe in a transparent two piece rain suit, a gear custom made for the two wheeler bound Indian male. It makes him oblivious to the lashing rain and the rage of passing 4 wheelers.
I see a beefy lad as he hangs onto the footboard of a bus, his t-shirt tight enough to show off multiple packs, his colored hair gelled and styled after the latest Bollywood heartthrob, a serpent tattoo adding more menace to his already menacing looking bicep. I wonder what he does for a living…a bouncer at the upmarket night club in town, a celebrity’s personal trainer perhaps, or maybe a personal bodyguard to one of Mumbai’s glitterati…I don’t know… but I know see hope as he hangs in there, a hope for an easy day at work.
I see an aspiring model/starlet, as she hops out of a local train and into a taxi, guarding her painstakingly put together ensemble of clothes, shoes, make up and accessories from the slush and rubble around. If the yellow in her stilettos and skirt scream for attention, the city doesn’t seem to notice. Its a city where everyone is chasing his dream, with no time to stop and stare!
I see an old man, straight out of an insurance ad, running…folding his umbrella as he runs, hoping to catch the bus that is rumbling at the traffic signal. Will he or won’t he make it… I crane my neck….I forget to breathe for a precious few seconds…the driver sees him just as the signal changes… I do a high five with myself as the old man makes it inside safely.
I see countless others…all of whom make my own problems in this city seem insignificant.
I see those people whose fortunes depend on the sales pitch they make in the 30 seconds it takes for the signal to change from red to green, as they hawk anything from cheap Chinese toys one day to the Indian tri colour the next and mobile phone accessories the third.
I see the woman who travels 30 kms by train, getting ready to set up her plastic knick-knacks stall outside the station gates.
I see those roadside salons where shaving services are provided under makeshift plastic roofs. I think this is one city where, if there is anyone willing to offer a service, however bizarre, there is someone out there waiting to avail that service. The service provider and the receiver go about their business out in the open, with utmost ease and comfort.
Then there are those numerous shacks along the highway, made of tin, wood scraps and every other conceivable material, homes with one room, shared by 5 people and their ubiquitous dog and chicken. I see these people cook and clean, bathe and wash, fight and make up all out in the open, and wonder how they manage to do all of this with their dignity still so intact.
It is a city that gives me hope every time I step out…hope in hardwork, hope in honesty, hope in the dignity of labour and hope that my hour long journey each day will teach me something new about life and the people around me.
