Bumbum Bumbai, oops ’Mumbai’

Bumbum Bumbai, oops ’Mumbai’. My maiden article on the city.

The pounding of my heart was keeping pace with the sound of the train’s chug-chug as the train approached the Borivali station at Mumbai. Countless thoughts and doubts were crowding my mind. “Had I made the right decision?.” “Will I regret leaving Delhi?” “Will I like the city?” “Will I make friends here?”………

I had not even stepped on the soil of Mumbai and was already missing my family. Flashes of all the happy moments spent with them came rushing in my mind’s eye. A feeling of emptiness filled my insides.

I got down at the station, clutching my belongings and my wildly beating heart. The train left taking away with it my link to my past. The disembarking passengers melted away into the arms of their loved ones. I felt abandoned and alone. My brothers were not to be seen. The sense of desolation deepened. Little girl lost in the big, bad city.

After a 15-minute wait – the longest 15 minutes of my life- I saw my brothers rushing to meet me. I was too relieved to admonish them for being late. We headed for my new home, where my uncle and aunt welcomed me warmly. I was already feeling better. At least I had someone in the city. I thought of the hundreds of brave souls, who come to the city of dreams without knowing a single soul. We chatted for a while and the rest of the day flew by in a whirl. I kept wondering if I’d be able to adjust here. I was still missing home.

On my earlier visits to Mumbai, I had found the people here rude in the way they talked and behaved. I hated the local trains, the crowds, the slums and just about everything. In short, I just hated Mumbai.

But this time I decided to go with an open mind, without any pre-conceived notions and prejudices.

Day 2. I had to go to Bandra in a local train. I felt as though going to the battle field. My aunt gave me detailed instructions and I followed them diligently. She had told me to go into the 2nd class ladies compartment. I asked a few commuters where the ladies compartment would stop. And then there I was- in a jam-packed local train. I looked around and saw a sea of faces-women clutching their bags, chatting, arguing, fighting, smiling, some looking out with bored expressions, some even sleeping! Women in all shapes and sizes and appearances from fashionably and smartly attired office goers teetering in their stilettos to fisherwomen in their traditional dress.

I was struck by one fact: everyone seemed busy and nobody was interested in what others were doing or wearing. Delhi is so different and class conscious I thought. Well, one ‘plus’ for Mumbai, I thought.

A fascinating peculiarity of local travel here is that the train doubles as a mobile market. The range of items being sold in the train is mind boggling-from vegetables to knives to nighties to groceries. A vendor selling earrings was screaming out his wares: earrings, clutchers….only 5 rupees. I was just looking at the items and before I realized it, he had thrust a box in my hands and disappeared. How trusting, I thought. I examined the contents of the box. Some of the earrings would probably cost at least 5 or 10 times more in a mall. He returned and I bought two pretty pairs.

The train reached Bandra and I did not have to step out or walk to the exit. You just get swept along with the crowds. Just make sure you face the right direction!

I reached Pixion studio and ...…