Impressions of Mumbai

From Mani Rathnam’s blockbuster movie to the city’s famous dubba-walas, I had heard and read so much about the city, but was never able to visit and evaluate the city myself. Until now.

Mumbai, to me, seems like a huge maze that you just can’t stop to admire - admire about the contrast that life here is for different types of people; admire how India’s largest city thrives amidst all the chaos, with mornings starting at 5am and a never-ending nightlife; admire how a city with a population that’s about the 4th largest in the world runs with paltry infrastructure; admire how there could be a city that provides everything – literally – round the clock; admire how everyone is immersed in one’s own life and have no time to think about anything else.

In short, I’m spell bounded. Not because Mumbai is huge and rich and I’m seeing stuff that I can’t probably find anywhere else in India, but because life here is so different from what I was used to and what I’ve seen and heard till now. Once you land your feet here, you just can’t be surprised to see people wielding Raybans and Ferragamo accessories ruffle past you in a BMX X5 into a jazzy mall at the same time as three shabby looking kids pester you for a couple of least-denomination coins. You might think it sounds like a line from a guy who’s never been in Indian cities, but the contrast here is so striking that you can’t shy away from it. As one of my friends put it, with all the nightlife and multitude of avenues available, the only thing you’ll regret is not earning more. I guess these regrets never tone down any point of time in life. You always want more.

And what’s even more surprising is how nobody ever complains about how difficult life could be unless you are blessed with a fat paycheck. I mean, you might be earning a couple of 4 lacs per year and lead a king’s life in most Indian cities but you would find yourself to be a no-one in Mumbai. Money here doesn’t have half the value it has 50 Kms further away. And don’t even talk about sub-urban trains. I still can’t figure how on earth people travel in these trains in the peak morning rush without complains. Millions of people spend about 20% of their life traveling. Or inside one of the vehicles in some traffic jam. The clock here seems to start a couple of hours early and runs 3 late by the end of everyday. I guess you get used to things beyond a point. We can probably call it institutionalization, as told by Morgan Freeman in Shawshank Redemption.

Personally, I suddenly find myself amidst concrete jungles. To me, a view of a perfect home was always a single house set amidst lawns full of flowers where kids and puppies frolic around. That was how I was brought up but it now seems to be a distant, unimaginable luxury. And what’s striking is how an entry as a tenant into one of these hemmed-in apartments could be terribly difficult, almost a test of patience. You need to produce everything from your passport to appointment letter to your ration card to your PAN card to quality as a tenant. And neighbors don’t have an iota of second-thought to knock the door at 11.30 in the night to enquire who you are and how you secured admission in the ‘society’ despite being a bachelor, as our broker insists not to call ourselves bachelors but just ‘employed professionals’. Whatever!

Lastly, for the sake of record, I don’t especially like blogging from a browsing center, but there seems to be no solution for the time being.