One to Live In? or, The One To Die For - Bombay!

Some days remain etched in memory - Today is one such day. I landed in Mumbai on this date, exactly 4 years back - June 20, 2010.

To think about it, I had no plans to come to Mumbai.. Once here, I had no plans to stay in Mumbai for more than a year, if not less... and today, after 4 years, such a thought looks as distant a dream as visiting Mumbai sitting in a distant insignificant small town in Jharkhand, when i was a child.

Mumbai to me was busy broad well-lit roads, Mumbai was people always on the move, Mumbai was people boarding and alighting running trains, Mumbai was tall buildings, Mumbai was Bollywood, Mumbai was flamboyant, Mumbai was mafia, Mumbai was money, Mumbai was Bombay, Mumbai was a sea-laced city, Mumbai was a dream, which had come true.

A hot humid day, I landed in this city, nervous and slowly finding my way out of the airport, boarded an auto, paid more than double (realized a few days later), went looking for an accommodation to stay, met a long lost friend and extremely tired, retired early for the day while still trying to analyse whether taking this plunge into an unknown, bigger than the sky city would do any good! 

Next day I woke up to a soothing continuous sound of water flow, to figure what it was, I got out of bed and opened the curtains to see a dark, black, cloudy sky pouring like on the whole of earth and since times immemorial this was the only place that it was raining for the first time ever.

The rains continued but Life didn't stop. People were hanging from the window rods of the 'BEST' buses, trains brought in thousands with dripping clothes, children splashing in the puddles with floral or transparent rain coats and passers-by with their trousers folded upto the knee and drenched from head to toe, were on the move with a spirit that can't be defined. This rhythm of rain and Life struck a chord in me, which still rings vibrant and throws hues of colours that has kept me dancing to the tune of this city.

Since then, the city has been a place, which i'm still so mesmerised with that i can't call it a 'Home', but so dear that it's just not a city - the madness, zeal, zest, love cannot be bound by just a name!

Will Sparkle Forever!

A sudden whiff of a strange weird thought. But think of it, it’s some thing that affects each one of us everyday in someway or the other – the sense of Loss – Death. A term that takes away from us something very dear, very familiar.

This struck me very distinctly with the news of Farooque Shaikh passing away. Instant reaction, must be someone I don’t know. A second reaction, how? A third and so on and so forth as news kept coming and confirming that it was this actor, whom we always praised both as an actor and a person, but never spoke of it so verbally as we are doing now. Later, i also thought about his family. What the family must be going through. A healthy, hearty person goes to Dubai for a concert, with his family, and a few days later the family returns without him. It’s scary, incomprehensible.

While mulling over the news, I started to think about him in terms of what he did best and was widely known for, Acting. I distinctly remember watching him first in ‘Katha’, which was aired on Doordarshan. To which, I remember my aunt’s reaction to Farooque Shaikh’s character – ‘issh, erom lok hoyeche keno? Onno shob chobi te ki bhalo bhalo paat kore’ (why is he playing such a character, he is such a nice person in all other films.) She was not liking the fact that Farooque Shaikh, an actor with an established image of a next door, well-behaved neighbour, someone who would never go wrong by principle & choice, was playing such a character. This, I’m saying gauging the impact that reel has on real life.

Taking the point from here, I also thought of many such artists who we have known through our parents; and to sit and reflect back, most of them died in the past 4-5 years. People whom we knew and grew up to only to admire & respect, leaves all of a sudden, and that struck.

There were these set of artists about whom my father would selflessly and forcefully pitch for. They were the icons he grew up with. He, given the bleakest opportunity would praise and show his fondness and respect for Dilip Kumar, Raj Kapoor & Dev Anand over Amitabh Bachchan and Sashi Kapoor, Sachin Dev Burman over Rahul Dev Burman, Md. Rafi & Mukesh over Kishore Kumar and so on and so forth. With progress of time and era, even the lesser preferred artists in the above equation were GOD when compared to the ilk of the modern day artists, who were, the Khans, the Maliks, the Sanus & so on. But, keeping judgement aside, our choice and taste are influenced by the contemporaries, which, as we grow keep changing and evolving to eventually die down.

I’m saying all this because of the number of deaths we have heard in the last five years. We have heard, known and learnt about them from our previous generation, they actually belonged to that generation. Still, we relate to them so much that news of death does leave in us a sense, a realization of irreplaceable, irreparable loss. In that case, how do our parents feel about these losses? What’s the magnitude of void that they experience? How difficult is it for them to hear and accept such news? Do these news create in them a sense of despair and helplessness of having to face an inescapable truth – sooner or later! Do they long to go back to the times when only the characters died but the players evolved successful!

Sooner or later, such a day would dawn on us too. We would wake up to hear that our screen icons are no more. They have left back only reels of memory and would never ever play a character whom we would get a chance to despise or admire. How will we deal with that?

Everything cannot be  put in words, but the best that one can do is to live the moment, ease out, be content, do good and make merry – for Life, is not what you can plan.

Winter Warmth

Cities impact your life. Cultures, people, landmarks affect you for sure; but positively or negatively is how one apprehend it. I personally believe that if one is open to explore the variety that a place has to offer, one cannot really ignore the brilliance of being in a new place and among new people.  Impact of a place is much like, you can hate it or love it, but cannot ignore it. Worry not, if a new city doesn't affect you positively, for if it doesn't now, it surely will when you walk away.

As is said, distance makes you yearn for what has been left behind. Yet again and quite repetitively at that, I am again reminded of a city where I lived for quite a few years and which I would like to believe, helped me evolve and have shaped me as an individual. Shape, literally at that may be!

The breeze flowing with a certain romantic nip in it makes you feel happy, plain happy. The low fogs on the lake or the mighty river just acts as the soft curtain which raises itself with the subtle warm sun hopping in. The afternoons spent lying on the vast sheet of greenery, dotted with ponnies, sprinkled with the sweet aroma of oranges and a comfort quilt with friends around will surely not make you regret an ounce of missing out on anything lavish, for there can’t be anything as lavish and extraordinaire than this moment, if, you are living in and living it up.

Soaking in the brilliant glow of the angel’s face above that architectural grandeur you are reminded of a mere human existence. Just then, it’s best to walk in to the chapel which emancipates the hue even more wonderfully with the rainbow colored window panes. The soft hymns reverberate through your senses and you believe that if there’s a thing worth living, it’s this. While meandering through the alleys which stand as a witness to the great Victorian era, you bite into a lavish western breakfast and sip into the aromatic tea of the great land you reside in.

In the evening, when the air smells of sweet perfumes and people dressed in their generously elaborate woolens walk down the path, the welcoming gesture of the city’s glow resembles that perfect hue of being shy of a beauty walking with the love of her life. Red, golden and silver strips of lights washing down the dirt and murk of an otherwise unnoticed life, the city awaits a gentle kiss on its cheek to re-emphasize the fact that one can live years and wait with a bated breath to get a glimpse of this beautiful, sweet and romantic lady glow in its cordial warmth.

To You,

With Love. 

Celebration of Life

...and an year rolled by, to welcome The Lady yet again. She waits as eagerly to visit her paternal home as much her annual arrival is awaited here. To welcome her, the sun awaits the tuneful blow of the conch shell collected from the deepest water and then the day breaks to give life a new definition with refined love, togetherness, peace and a heart full of celebration in all its forms.

... and yet another year passes by, when the beautiful city will stand elegant like a princess dressed in all her finery. Her natives from far and wide will lay bare in her motherly lap and  get their soul rekindled with love, fun and madness. Merriment will be observed and ensured in all its form everywhere, but somewhere faraway, on this beautiful mother, the sun will glow a bit more brightly and will shower an ounce of warmth more.

... and then, a certain patch of the lively soul somewhere, will yearn for a bit more of the aroma of dhunuchi, phul and dhup that mix seamlessly to create a heavenly atmosphere which will further transcend with the chants during the pushpanjali. The ever enticing smell of the wicked chatim will fill the air to add a bit more charm of fun to the whole atmosphere. The alert ears will miss a beat on the dhaak and the conch blow.

The mind will wander away a bit to step in the lanes of South Calcutta and the galore of North Calcutta. The heart will miss a few more companion's silly banter, loud laughter and an extra step to the Maddox Square.  The harried dress-up session at 95, Southern Avenue will be less harried with one less in blocking the mirror. The boisterous souls at Golpark, Kasba or Chetla will be met from a slight distance and finally the nightly treads to Gariahat, Lake Road, Bhowanipore will have a company less till another dawn breaks till the next.

... and till then the festivity will be observed with full mirth and undiminished enthusiasm for nothing can possibly alter the spirit of presence of the Goddess on Earth.

VIBGYOR

Holi from my childhood days are something i envy today, needless to mention there are a line up of many miore such days.

On this day then i used to wake up early in the morning and hunted out that old and withered frilled white frock. Morning was about gulping some interesting breakfast. Soon after, i used to run down to the "laal-bari" to join my cousins for the occassion. All gathered with our choice of colors, splashes of colors on the frock, all merry and tireless, the morning went in a jiffy. Evenings were equally interesting with parents joining the gang with "abir". Abir smelt air and the evening sky colored looked brighter with the brightest of colors.

Years went by and the days changed, went to Hazaribagh.  Celebration was equally exciting but lacked the grandeur. Absence of 9 cousins to play Holi with, the number came down to 1, and i still remember something from those days. A mean gesture rather. Amidst examinations, I was sitting sad. He came up with his palms painted in green and smeared the color on my face from behind, pissed, i didnt enjoy it. I went crazy and  screamed at him, went and washed my face rite away...i still regret that behaviour of mine. With an opportunity anytime in future, i would take it all in mirth. Promise :)

Then days were brighter and the boundaries opened beyond the gathering of 9 cousins. I was a hosteller at the Banaras Hindhu University. Hundreds of girls of more or less the same age..but that's the age where people are serious about their being seniors and juniors than any other thing under the sun, but Holi was one leveler. On this day there were no restrictions and orders took a back seat. The water reservoir under the fountain was filled with water and the color of the water changed in seconds, after playing colors for hours, amidst the examination months, we were treated with special lunch. It was fun..Undoubtedly

Years older. Jadavpur University. Not much to be said, but colors were played more on the day before the occassion than on the day.

Since then, only a year or two, i celebrated Holi, but honestly not as heartily. Sometime later, it was on Holi, i.went to a friend's place, while returning a girl on the road sprayed color on me, i was more than happy, i was reminded of my frilled frocks.

Then, Days started shedding off colors. Nevertheless, with all fun and memories, this day brings in a sign of hope, a dream of coloring the world in our own bright way.

HAPPY HOLI.. :)