Hey everyone,
I am doing a series on the blog and as it’s the monsoon period in India, recounting the rain tales spent in the city. Hope you will like it. Today is the first chapter during the entire rainy season in Mumbai.
Mumbai, 2006:
The Volvo bus reached Mumbai past midnight. The weather was frigging hot and the skin burning, battling flies as I frantically paced, between stopping for a cutting chai and smoke, outside Dadar station. I was already hungry after the three hours plus journey in the AC bus. I froze inside.
Ah! This place called Mumbai, the glitz of colorful life, tall buildings, honks of cabbies outside the station, restaurants lining up and the stench that wafts in the atmosphere offers happiness in seamless, the street food, cutting chai or the people make me feel like a King to conquer the city. There is something divine, cathartic and intriguing about the city. Don’t they say Bombay is an emotion, Mumbai is a city! The glares and stares, lifeline of commoners in Amchi Mumbai, local train.
The local slowly ambled at the station and ticket in hand for 4 bucks sitting in the empty berth, as the skin became sticky with the heat , burning sensation caressing the face and the parched lip. The train slowly ambled as the eyes fixing at the latest poster of sitcoms and movies, where excitement means off limit, pretty much like the city thriving on the edge.
Image credit: Google/https://www.featurepics.com/Marine Drive, South Mumbai.
Churchgate Station is iconic to me in more than one way breeding a sense of familiarity and hopping out of the station, the sight of Suryodaya supermarket on A road wing and taking the subway towards the LIC building, wading past Gaylord and K Rustom ice cream. I could have taken the fastest road, directly from the station at the exit door to directly hop at C Road where the hostel is nestled but love to sit at Marine Drive for some time to feel the breeze caressing my face and fluttering the hair. The drizzle has started and the first sprinkle blessed me as I walked. Imagine my surprise. The sea was separated by blue iron sheets with a major facelift happening at Marine Drive.
I was heartbroken for a few minutes. It has always been a ritual to sit by Marine Drive, smoking, admiring the Queen’s necklace, facing the sea with a smile on the face giving wings to obnoxious dreams in the city. I walk straight to the hostel and was greeted by the security guy,thought of casually walking into a comfortable room. The drizzle didn’t stop. I wasn’t yet an inmate at ISH since was still in Pune. Normally, someone should take you as a guest and you pay for your room but wrongly assumed of getting a free ticket but the guy wouldn’t relent. I was thinking where to go at this time and the first thought that came to my mind was sleeping at Churchgate station where many do so.
The boys staying in the hostel convinced the security guy to let me stay in and coaxed him where I would go at this odd hour past midnight. I still recall their words, “Itni raat kahan jayega woh” (where will he end up at this odd hour) and they asked me to wait, “Hum log kuch karte hai” (we will try something). I saw goodness in people. A tiny speck of stress engulfed me and lit another cigarette. Finally, I was allowed to enter the hostel that would become my home for two years. Guess what! I slept on the table inside the mess room with my bag pack as the pillow to rest my head. Between chasing flies and having water, I dozed off. The ear was privy to the pitter patter of rain. The monsoon has just started in a timid manner. Mumbai baarish is truly special.
Love
V
