It is a moist cool rainy September night in
Mumbai, the maximum city. Mumbai, for me, a kind lady, an inspiration
of strength holding beneath her arms, many exciting stories of rags and riches.
Every move, every nerve of her, every minute witnesses some or other kind of excitement,
some kind of inspiration, some kind of lessons learnt.
It has it's own charm – from hustle bustle
of the suburban ‘local’ stations to calm sea shores, which takes away all your
tiredness in its deepness. From noisy busy mornings to silent tired
nights. It has it all.
I’m in the room of my guest
house, sipping a hot cup of Green tea, which has a punch of ginger in it. An usual composed
hoping sound by field cricket is playing at the back of my
ears. My room is all on boxes – formals, jeans, tees all scattered around, and
thankfully, not on my bed!
Suddenly, it starts raining. Rains are different here in Mumbai, or maybe they are just similar to any other rain.
But then, what makes them look different? May be the feeling of relaxation it gives you
after or midst a busy day. The sudden downpour and the moist air suddenly
relaxes you and touches your soul, bringing to you the aroma of wet soil - the
best perfume on the planet.
Rains fall unrelenting, sounding
like a lullaby, putting on mute all the hulla bo noises around me, bringing you
close the voice of your soul. Not really sure about how, where
and what my Sunday will bring for me – kind of little excited, nervous, happy,
scarred. Believing in my honest work and dedication, and awaiting some magic
for next Sunday, I wear my slippers and walk out of the building.
Magical sound of the raindrops
slowly touching the dark black wet road plays at my back. One hand, I have my
umbrella, and on the other, my phone
I start walking towards the
station for some station wali - chai and packed biscuits. This walk is not the
usual walk I have every morning. My walks are sluggish towards the station rather
than being measurable for me with every minute having its own meaning to me. 5
minutes late to the projected time – 9:29 Churchgate Slow, 10 minutes late – 9:42
Andheri Fast, so that I can catch the same 9:29 slow from Andheri station.
The scene is also different on
the road-sides at this time of the day. Roadsides are sleepy, they are dark.
Yea alright your nostrils do hit some wet rotten stinky smell, mix of
vegetables, polybags and all day long trash.
I finally reach the station. The
view is calm. Few autowallahs sleeping, few having a chat. I finally reach Platform
no.1.
“Ek chai dena” – waiting for my
cup of chai, I realize, that station is the place, though it may yawn, but will
never sleep. You have people here waiting for the first train that leaves and
arrives in the morning. You’ve a gang of college guys and girls, laughing and
chatting all out.
I turn towards the stall vendor.
“Kahan se ho?” (where are you
from?) – I ask yawningly .
“Sahab Johnpur”. Aur app? – He asks
in a friendly tone.
Living and growing up in so many
cities, I always find this a tough question to answer.
“Whole night, you’re awake no
sleep?” – I continue to talk to him, when he serves me my cup of tea, with some
chocolate chip cookies.
“No sir! We officially have to be
awake. Railway stalls cannot be shut in the night.” He continues – “I sit here
whole night, and then sleep for 4 hours. Then I go to work to guard one of the
ATMS close by from noon to night. “
“That’s tough! Don’t you think of
going back to Johnpur?”
“No sir! I don’t get the time to
think about it, and anyways going back there will be a bigger struggle. There
are local groups, who would not let us hamper their business, if we wish to
start one” – he answers
“Chai kum pani jyada hai” – I complain.
“Sir, should I make another?”
“No! that's fine.”
1 comment:
Super awesome! Just like your blog then, bout Ahemdabad! Way to g Sash! :D
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