Bombay (2)

So this is how my post about bombay was originally supposed to be: long and incredibly detailed.

Everything about how I would once have never believed that I would come to hate mumbai and then finally did. Loathe it.. that too with a lethal vengeance. About being assaulted by irritating mumbai clichés at every corner- and finally being done in by the biggest cliché, the city itself. And after a day’s work, walking around aimlessly for hours and feeling stupendously silly for ever having had any good intentions. Feeling lost and lonely and so very small. About how I have come to harbour a deep dislike for anyone who has ever got a degree in human resource management.

About how mumbai has no room for anyone or anything. No elbow room either, unless your elbow is prepared to fork out 1500/- a night for the cockroach infested shoebox suite with the charming view of the dumpster.

And about the pleasanter things… because pleasant things do happen more than once in a while. We just never give happy occurrences their due.

About moronic matchmaking till 4:00 am in the morning. The pains taken to prepare the “top 5 d-school men for you” list, which in my case stalled at two and a half. Black tea at midnight brainstorming sessions and my obsession for “consolidating” the day’s events. About having to share a queen size bed with four other people, but being too exhausted to care or do anything for that matter, besides giggle uncontrollably.

About my last day in mumbai. A not entirely uneventful day. I slapped two men, got shat on by 4 birds, flirted shamelessly with an Italian furniture proprietor/salesman (the furniture was Italian, he was Sindhi) at the Prince of Wales museum and got a lovely conversation and cup of coffee out of it, before finally ending up at the Marriot with an old flame and the most satisfying piece of chocolate cake.

The 5 days I spent there seemed like a month. A lot happened, and a lot of it worthy of documentation. But by the end of it I got slightly sick of it and slightly sick of myself.

So I’ll stick to the things I can think of right now… and I’m sure the rest are bound to manifest themselves at some point of time or the other.

****

I met Jos and I realised how much I miss Jos. And I missed Jos most during the conversation I was having with Jos. I can’t remember the last time I had spoken at such length to another human being. I was so breathless and agitated. The words were hovering around my moth threatening to spew forth like vomit. And to think, once upon a time, these conversations happened all the time. How did we never run out of things to say to each other? It boggles my mind.

And the conversations were just as rushed and breathless then, almost as if we were in a race against time to put all the thoughts out onto the table. I miss having easy access to it.

****

I found myself strangely at ease with my travel companions. When did these d-school people become my friends? When despite myself did I feel it okay to let them in on silliest of my secrets?

My first crush at d-school, my irrational and vehement dislike for all but a few bongs and most people from hansraj, wanting to run away from the piles of photostats, the tests and the mundaneness of it all, desperately seeking distraction (“December will be my month, no jan, no wait it’ll be feb for sure”), my second crush at d-school… and then suddenly loving it… the classes, the teachers, the time and the coffee. Making my peace with being in the “other” college on the “other side of the road”. Falling in love with math and floundering in a sea of the most delicious notation.

I found myself deeply engaged in conversation, laughing at their jokes and what’s worse… making jokes that actually elicited their laughter, things that rarely if ever happen.

Maybe loneliness started to get to me… I caved and just became one of them. Or maybe I wasn’t all that different to begin with. But I know the kinship we formed was part magic and part the day’s nervous tension seeking release. A large portion of it got left behind in mumbai and I’m not sure if I should rejoice or mourn it’s loss…

Eh… bleh…

****

Somehow crossing state lines plays havoc with my system. My poor confused bowels aren’t quite adept at adapting to drastically altered climates, cuisines and sleep and activity patterns.

(I wish there were money to be made from sharing unnecessary and uncomfortable details. I’d be a millionaire)