Mumbai Pune Mumbai

(February 2017)

I wasn't a complete stranger to Mumbai when I moved here two weeks back. On the contrary, it's where I was born. After spending 23 years of my life in Pune, I moved to my uncle’s house in Mumbai for an internship.

I didn’t read too much into it until my little cousin asked me the other day, “which city do you like more – Pune or Mumbai?” My answer should have been Pune, undoubtedly, but I said, “it’s too soon to tell. I have spent 23 years of my life in Pune and just two weeks in Mumbai. It's not fair to compare my connection with both the cities.” Though I seemed to have dodged the question, it got me thinking.

Being brought up in Pune, I am fond of the peace and serenity that place offers. Its charm, its calmness, and moderately lazy but culturally rich and tasteful lifestyle is part of me now. Yet there has always been this inexplicable attraction towards Mumbai.

My family had decided to shift to Pune before I turned 1. So, till two weeks back, I had seen Mumbai only through the window of our car during our occasional visits to all the relatives in Mumbai. Whatever I knew about the city was through my family’s animated descriptions and vivid portrayals of Mumbai in movies. Though Mumbai has always been my second home, the city had remained unknown to me.

But now, here I am. Getting the first-hand experience of the city. I am starting to realize that all those things that I read or heard about the city (good and bad), were not really exaggerated. Mumbai has the potential to make you fall in love with her (I don’t know why but for me, it’s a “she”!).

She is definitely not green but she is beautiful. She really is fast-paced. Yes, she never sleeps. She is indeed a mix of all the cultures. But what sets her apart is her character. If you get stuck in her speed, you’ll keep running. If you fall in her whirlpool, you’ll keep spinning. If you crib about her, you’ll keep crying.  But if you just step back for a moment, you’ll see her.

I love that she doesn’t judge me. She doesn’t stare at me till I feel conscious. She acts ignorant. But she cares a lot. Whenever I find myself confused or in trouble, I find help in some form or the other. She lets me be carefree and takes care of the rest.

A lot of people to care for, right? Maybe that’s why she cries so much, four months of the year. To let it all out. Cries her heart out. So much so that the people get scared. So, when she stops, she spends the rest of the time pacifying them. I haven’t seen her monsoon yet but I am glad that, at least, I get to see her now. I get to find my parents’ young selves here. I get to see my brother’s childhood. And I am certain that someday, somewhere in her love and care, I will get to meet my long-lost grandfathers too.

I am just glad that now I have an opportunity to explore myself in Mumbai and Mumbai in me.  Though it’s too soon to tell which city I like more, I am glad to have spent so many years in Pune and to have come here now to find the missing piece. Pune has given me peace and Mumbai gives me pace.

My cousin probed further (that’s her favourite hobby), “so which city would you choose to live in, permanently?” Surprising myself, without a second’s delay, I said, “it doesn’t matter. I will be happy anywhere life takes me”. The more I think about my answer, more it makes sense. I always wondered how my parents managed to come to Pune and appreciate its beauty while they loved Mumbai so much. But now, I see it. It doesn’t matter which city you choose to stay in. The city you grew up in, the city you absolutely adore or the city you have desperately fallen in love with, has already clawed its way inside your heart and has created its own magical happy place.

Bottom line – it simply doesn’t matter what mould I am poured into, I am already a perfect brew of Mumbai & Pune!!! 

Makeup

He looked up as she called him for makeup. His wandering eyes tried to narrow down her position through the crowd. As he politely asked the people around him to step away, she looked at him with awe. He arrived where she sat and settled comfortably in his seat. Finally, she began his makeup.

No, he was not a celebrity though he was quite celebrated in her world, she was not his makeup artist, and no, they were not in a gleaming makeup room of a reputed studio. They were on the, usually bustling and seldom quiet, Ferguson college road in Pune.

Sitting in front of a fancy mobile store, she had already laid down colorful and unique ornaments on a maroon makhmal-y cloth, below which, there was a cheap, pale pink plastic sheet (which she used to lay it below him when he was in his bed-wetting phase). Now that her roadside shop was opened for the day, she turned towards her 7-year-old and continued their daily routine. She started painting his face with all the bright colors she could gather… Bright enough to catch the attention of the passersby… She always created a thick, non-penetrable layer of makeup and she never missed a spot. 

Image by Rohan Lunavat via Instagram/rohaan0210

He quietly looked around while she did her job. That's when he saw Gulaabbo arriving. Gulaabbo was about his age. Her foreign, transparent, and fair skin had turned pink in the past week. With her blond hair and pink skin, she looked just like a doll. He smiled. He immediately got a slap. 

"Sattu, halu nakos." (don't move) His mother scolded. 

He pouted with an angry face. She just ignored it. Not getting any attention from her, he again diverted his eyes towards Gulaabbo. By now, Gulaabbo had spotted him and was waving at him.

Gulaabbo had arrived in Pune 4 days back with her parents, who were both professional photographers. Her parents were on their month-long visit to the exotic and poor land of India. To explore India as it is, they had learned basic Hindi. A kid with his face painted with bright colors was one of their attractions in their Pune visit. 

Today was their last day in Pune. They asked for his mother’s permission to take his photos. Initially, she had refused. But extra 500 bucks made her change her mind. After clicking numerous photos of Sattu, they turned towards his mother and started asking questions. Most of their questions were about his education. As she tells everyone else, she told them that she can’t afford it. They handed her another 100 bucks saying Aapka beta boaut piyaara hey (you have a lovely kid).

“I like your face. It is colorful", Gulaabo initiated a conversation with Sattu while their parents talked.

“Tu kuthun aalis?” (Where did you come from?)

“You look like a cartoon character”

“Tu Gudiya distes ekdum” (You look just like a doll)

“Where do you live?”

“Tu parat kadhi yenar?” (When will you come back?)

“When I grow up, I will come back here to meet you.”

“Mi motha houn roz ya hotelat khanar.” (When I grow up, I will eat at this hotel every day)

He pointed to a hotel that was just two shops away.

“Do you like the food here?”

She asked looking in that direction and smiled.

He just nodded and smiled back.

Gulaabbo’s parents called out to her.

“Come honey. We are getting late.”

Gulaabbo waved goodbye to Sattu and ran towards her parents.

Sattu couldn’t hear what she was saying. But she told something to her parents and they all entered the hotel that he had mentioned.

As they went out of his sight, he remembered something. He ran back to his mother. She was keeping the money in her small wallet which she then kept hidden in her saree near her chest.

“Aai, hya paishancha kay karaycha?” (Mom, what are we going to do with this money?)

She smiled and started adjusting the ornaments.

“Apan tya hotel madhe nahi janar aahot. Tuze shaleche kapade aata june zalet. Te phadun ithe saafsafai la vaparu aani tula navin kapde gheu.”

(We are not going to that hotel. Your school uniform has become old now. Let’s use that now for cleaning these ornaments and buy you a new uniform.)

It was going to take many more trips for Gulaabbo’s parents to see India without the makeup… 

Too much pressure

It was a beautiful day for Rekha. She woke up before her alarm went off. Bathing water was at optimum temperature. Got ready 5 minutes earlier than usual. Walked to her bus stop instead of taking an auto. And...there she was. Occupying her regular seat in the bus. All familiar faces. Her neighbor was engrossed in his morning newspaper giving her enough space to sit comfortably in her half of the cushioned bench. All comfy and good. 

She was so relaxed that she could hear the birds chirping. She noticed that it was not too sunny today. Just pleasantly bright. Her neighbor, who was done reading the morning news, looked at her while folding the newspaper. They exchanged smiles and returned to their respective morning commute contemplations.

Just when she was about to call it the best morning ever, it happened. A horrendous, unimaginable and unacceptable act. 

Calm down. Maybe that's not it. Maybe he is about to do something else. Don't panic. It's still a fine morning. Oh no!

Her neighbor did exactly what she feared. Saving her morning was out of the picture now. All she cared about was saving herself. She was mentally calculating all the possible scenarios of what could happen and ways of escaping the consequences without causing a scene. She glanced in her neighbor’s direction to see the damage done until now. 

Urghhhh...

His hand was already there. Inside his nose. Moving along its contours. After moving 2-3 times clockwise and anticlockwise, he seemed to have taken hold of a solid substance inside. He took it out with his thumb and index finger and started rolling it. The only positive thing was that his hand was on the other side. That meant she was safe. 

Just when she was about to look away, he shifted hands. 

Maybe he couldn't shape it round with his left hand. Maybe he is right-handed.

Not funny...

She scolded herself wiping the sweat beads which had started appearing on her forehead. As he stopped rolling, she mentally calculated all the trajectories and the directions that ball could fly in. By now she was sitting on the edge of the bench with her eyes closed tightly. She peeked to see that it had landed somewhere around his feet. 

Phewww...

This was a close one.

By now her neighbor had taken out a file and started reading it. She thanked God for not being the one checking this file after him. She got down at her bus stop. After her little tryst with the booger, she conceded that perfect mornings are too good to be true. That's just too much pressure on regular mornings and she knew how it felt to be under pressure. She decided to let the mornings be.

Back in the bus-

Birds chirping. Pleasantly bright morning. Window seat. Even the neighbor has alighted leaving the whole seat for me. Breath of fresh air without any hindrance. It is a perfect morning indeed.