Ode To Bombay - Part 1

There are certain things that Bombay-ites do that are so typical of them. And this typical Bombay-like behavior extends to every aspect in life, right from travelling (oh, the “locals”), being a “townie”, eating out, hitting the “suburbs”, being in “FYJC”(for all us non-bombay-ites that’s First Year Junior College), being star struck, living in “spacious” pigeonholes (paying a bomb for rent), to chilling at the “sit-out” area of any joint rather than in the air-conditioned section no matter how humid the weather is.
I’d rather divide my woes in parts and narrate it aspect-wise. To begin with, Travelling by the local trains in Bombay can teach you lessons of life that no religion or art of living classes could. Church gate station has to be a land mark in the lives of all travelers across bombay. You could find all kinds of people in the same predicament as yours and you consider the local train "empty" when you find a spot for your two feet to stand on. As soon as the announcement is made as to what kind of train is arriving, they would position themselves exactly where they predict that the train would stop (They would more often than not, make the perfect prediction with this). They would rush into a train the moment it hits a platform, irrespective of how many people already occupy that coach. There is always more space “created” by pushing or squeezing people inside. And not to mention the people who travel with clinging on to windows, doors or any part of the train they could hold onto, as well some of them who travel on top of the train. If the Singaporeans ever saw that we not only travel in trains without automated doors, or announcement and safety systems, but we also travel with clinging on to the teeny-weeny bit of door we could hold onto and could fall into the tracks when someone would as much as breathe out, they would probably have a cardiac arrest right away.
If someone who got in would not have a place to sit and they invariably wouldn’t, they would question with all the authority, all the people seated as to where they were to get off, and would “reserve” that seat with typical hand gestures, first pointing at themselves and then the seat. Gosh!!! Catfights over the silliest of issues are an everyday affair. People would travel by the train and would expect comfort levels of an air craft. They would start tsk-tsk-ing if you as much as nudged them or stepped on their foot unintentionally. As the train nears its destination, the passengers would start peeping out to keep a watch for which platform it would halt at, so they are right at the door when it halts and don’t miss a single jiffy. They would instinctively know and sometimes it would be much before the driver himself would, as to where the train would halt. At that precise moment every single person occupying that coach would swiftly turn to face the door almost as if bound by a spell. They would leave late for work, but would more than make up for lost time with squeezing into a really crowded train, pushing their way through, and positioning themselves right at the door of the coach right when the train halts.
And like the observation goes, in any particular area in Bombay, if there were a line of people walking as though with a purpose, more often than not, they are headed towards the nearest station!!

The Wheel of a Wagon

She was best described as the woman who played her part to precision. Donning masks, depicting emotions, awe-inspiring perfection, trend-setting garbs and perpetual congenial socializing were aspects that sketched her life lock, stock and barrel. Glamour was the name of the game she played best where to voyage added a richer tone to her performances.
On every voyage, meeting new people, catching up with acquaintances, and re-living good times spent with close friends was the norm. But on one such ordinary voyage, she met someone extra-ordinary. He was standing in the ballroom. Was it the glint in his eyes, or the lopsided smile? She was not able to make up her mind and put her finger down on one factor that pulled her to the other end of the ballroom in order to get his attention. There was a hushed silence followed by a volley of insignificant questions, “when is the next release scheduled to be?”, “how much did you enjoy your last role?” all of which were answered by her with the same impassive smile. And then he smiled, one that made up for all the emotionless smiles that might have transpired between her and the rest of the world. Walking up to her, he said “I have heard loads about your persona, but nothing close to how you are in reality”. “We have not been introduced!” she exclaimed, extending her hand.
The introduction began a whole gamut of events all that made her wonder if this is what love was all about, if this was how it felt like to be captivated, enthralled by someone. It was as if she was bound by a spell and didn’t want to break that trance. They would spend hours, discussing all the events of the past, making her feel like she had known him all along. Time raced by, blurring all other activities. It was as if there was no other purpose to life itself but this journey they undertook together.
One evening, amidst heavy downpour, when they had decided to spend time by the fireplace, watching the fire initially lick the pieces of firewood, only to slowly swallow them completely, burning brightly in sharp contrast to its background where the gloomy grey skies growled. She was suddenly filled with a sense of purpose only to pose the question that she thought she would never ask anyone ever “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” She asked. His expression hardened gradually, as if gathering all his strength for the time to come. “Would you happen to remember an old fool smitten by your love?” She was dumb-founded, “surely, there had to be some mistake” she thought to herself furiously racking her brains to remember the person he was talking about, not knowing the connection with the question she had asked. There had been so many such old fools, who were willing to risk their lives, to profess their undying love to her. She just did not want to look into his eyes for fear of seeing hatred and scorn pouring out of them. “Someone who abetted to every one of your wishes? Anyone who was foolish enough to leave his family to prove his love to you?” He questioned, moving closer to her, his voice a mere whisper now, and his hands around her neck, strangling her. “No!” she yelped “I don’t”. Her mind telling her this is all a dream and she would wake up in his arms, feeling warmth of love again. It most almost as if he waited for this exact moment to spell this out to her. His hand slid into his shirt, bringing out a gleaming object. Her eyes widened with shock as she saw that. “No!” she screamed. “Porcelain dolls like you would never know what it is like to yearn for a father, would you? You would not know what it is like to see your mother slip into insanity. You would not know what it is like to grow up like a freak not fathoming what love or family was. Yet, it is because of women like you that others yearn for father, mother, love and family. My father was a victim to your conniving plans. He fell prey to your beauty and traded a son and a loving wife for it. Only to squander all his life’s earnings for the one woman who could never promise love or loyalty to just one man” He bellowed into her ears, bringing the stiletto down closer in one swift movement. Realization dawned into her, images and incidents flashed through her head affirming the truth in his words. Her mind settled on the image of the guy in front of her eyes, images of him laughing, all his premeditated gestures and her eyes softened. She nodded her head trying to tell him that it was not true that she couldn’t love, and that she loved him solemnly. Alas, the stiletto had found its mark and pierced through her skin leaving her speechless!