The Mumbai Effect

As I lugged around my trolley at Bandra Terminus, I wondered: have I exaggerated my love for Mumbai? Is my eagerness to move here misplaced?

It had been a little over a month since I graduated business school, and the waters of life had been inevitably calm. One might even call it a lull. When you have been conditioned to live with goals and deadlines, the sudden lack of them is baffling.

Ergo, the idea of attending the wedding of a close friend couldn’t have been more refreshing. A week of illness had plateaued this excitement, and I boarded my train to Mumbai still feeling fuzzy. A message issued in interest of public welfare: if you ever happen to be about to buy tickets to a certain Yuva Express, don’t. It’s 500 rupees cheaper than a Rajdhani, and rattles like a bus on a mud road. Add that, my health, and the unfortunate company of twenty loud teenagers: it is remarkable I didn’t scream out in frustration.

And so there I was, still shaken from my journey, doubting my Mumbai; my good old Mumbai. The humidity announced itself, ‘Remember me, bro?’ The clock was approaching half past nine in the morning, and I thought a good breakfast would knock back sense into me. I told the auto-driver to take me to Linking Road, which he heard as Hill Road. So when my longer-than-required trip ended, I asked for the fare. 

“30 would be fine. It was my fault I misheard.” The meter read 40 Rs.

Both the admittance and the tone took me off guard. What was it that I felt, apart from the obvious appreciation of the importance of fairness to him?

The answer came to me an hour later, when I was buying a ticket for the local. An elderly bespectacled lady printed it for me, and replied my queries with a surprising earnestness. I thanked her, and she returned a warm smile. That feeling again.

And then I remembered. It was the Mumbai feeling. It took so long to remember, because I hadn’t felt it for a year. Long ago were the days where fairness and humility were a familiar aroma in the air. From that moment, it grew stronger every minute. Especially after I met my old friends, I could see the contrast from my life in B-school, in the pain my jaw felt from smiling and laughing. How could it not, when it hadn’t seen this much activity in a long time? The sickness in my body and mind went running for its life, because it knows a lost fight when it sees one. I am reminded of the strength Superman can only feel in the Sun. Every part of your body recognizes its home, embraces life around, and rejoices. When such is the resonance one feels, surprises are often in store. Like dancing unabashedly to the songs you profusely dislike, and enjoying the company of groups, without a drop of alcohol.

People ask me why, despite the crowds, rains and expenses, do you want to live there? This then would be my answer: the people make it all worth it, strangers and friends alike. Not everyone would agree of course, just as everyone doesn’t wear the same sized pants. But this is where I fit in.

It was all so effortless, and right. As the train departed from Mumbai, I smiled at my apprehension about the city three days ago. No shadow of doubt remains now. I know that moving to Mumbai a couple of months later, wouldn’t be a lot different than going home.

All because her name was Dumbhead

The year was 2007, when Orkut used to be a thing. Remember Orkut? People used to have cartoons and actors for profile pictures (predominantly females), apparently because the internet was thought unsafe to upload personal pictures. And today they feel comfortable uploading pictures of their families in swimming pools. Ah, progress.

It wasn't just the picture. Back then, it was thought unnatural to name your profile with your actual name. Nah, it had to be something like:
"K!ShoRe...~~exams~~" or
"black hole is... here ...no chance of escape."
I actually found that second one on email. Seriously.

So there I was, scrapping and snooping into profiles, satiating the ever growing need of wanting to know what's going on in other people's lives - and I came across an interesting profile.

I don't recall the picture - but it was a girl - and the name was Dumbhead.

Dumbhead. The idea of self-deprecating humor may have been alien to me then, but even so, it seemed quite a stretch. Why would anyone name themselves that? Failing to control my curiosity, I scrapped her with this question.

Actually I had done it once a year ago (2006), to which there was no response. So I thought I'd have another go. That's right - I chose curiosity over self-respect. And it worked.

Well I wish I had the actual conversation to share, but alas. Succinctly put, it was a justifiably angry response - saying how I am being nosy and should mind my own business.

My response was a mixture of charm and wit (or so I'd like to believe), but she was mortified. And we did have one mutual friend, which I think may have legitimized my existence, as opposed to the possibility of a serial killer. We started scrapping.

Such was the delight I took in our conversations, that I used to open Orkut in my first color Nokia phone, discussing Wimbledon and books. We shared our passions, fears and complexes. And it was all in a friendly spirit strictly, nothing more. Numbers were exchanged at some point but unused.

While in college, I once got a call from her on my birthday. The feeling is hard to describe, when you've been chatting for so long, and then you hear each other's voice for the first time. There wasn't any squeamish apprehension; we were both eagerly waiting for that moment.

There were a few calls now and then after that, and I couldn't believe this random internet pen friend had lasted throughout my college. When I had suggested meeting in the early years, her responses seemed polite. But the impulse was growing stronger with every year, and we both seemed up for it - however since I no longer stayed in Noida, the opportunities were scarce.

In my three years at Deloitte, the talking obviously reduced, but it didn't exactly cease. Our friendship was like a candle - the flame just persisted, even with the diminishing wax of time.

We came close to meeting a couple of times in Ahmedabad, and once in Noida - but that moment kept eluding us.

A week into my summer internship in Bombay (2015), she told me of her upcoming visit. The city of dreams seemed to have finally granted me my wish.

And so on a particularly hot summer morning outside Bandra station, I jostled through the crowd, looking for my radiant friend. The great wait of eight long years finally ended. I half-expected the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack to start playing.

But life isn't a movie. She was loaded with some shopping bags, and the scorching sun was making her fan herself. Expecting her to run towards me in slow motion, seemed a little too much to ask. In any case, straight-line movement is next to impossible outside a local station.

Bandra Station: Where we finally met

Regardless of how much you know someone online, meeting in person is just not the same. It takes a lot of courage to meet someone for the first time, even for an innocent breakfast. It becomes easier when there're people for company.

Once we took our seats and ordered food, Dumbhead became a lot more relaxed and we yapped like we always have. You know that scene from Lord of the Rings when Gandalf tells King Theoden to wield his sword, so that he remembers his strength?
I think it was the same for us - only that instead of swords, we held spoons and forks. We both love food.

She is a long way away from dumb. She reads a variety of books, has great taste in music, and her passion for food and cooking is a rare delight. She's an exceptionally kind and patient woman, which was evident from the way she spoke to the waiters and the auto-driver. I had always admired her smile in pictures, and finally got to witness it in person. The warmth had little to do with the sun.

A few weeks ago, she told me she'd gotten an internship, and how thrilled she was. Sharing such moments personally with someone makes one feel special, and that moment gave me the final push to share this story.

We remain close friends.

All because her name was Dumbhead.

Infinity

I am floating. Flying. Drifting.

The feeling is that of weightlessness.

Gravity is not the only thing that drags us down. We all have our baggage, and get weighed down by several things.

Sandra Bullock, in "Gravity":  One can literally touch the serenity in this scene.

Alcohol, cigarettes, and substance abuse is done by many all over the world to feel free again, from the gut-wrenching pains of life. To feel weightless.

This post doesn't attempt to discourage any of those things. It is merely something else I did last week, when I felt down and out.

Every now and then we slip into negative spirals over the most trivial of things. I slip a little more than normal people, but I have become more and more adept at getting back up.

Last week was such a case. Down and down I went, into the self-loathing phase where even your walk betrays your mood, what with the hunched shoulders. Nothing looked even vaguely fascinating.

Then I picked up a book. And another. And another. Then I decided to watch the most compelling movies of 2013.

The change was quite evident. I felt like having met my long lost friends after years and years. The conscience began to take steps upward. Have you seen a wailing baby, and how it stops only if it's held by its mother? It felt like that.

Once you start moving upwards, you get these amazing ideas. No, not like discovering electricity. They are more like impulses, with a very positive ring to them. This Saturday for instance, I felt this incredible urge to go meet a close friend, who I hadn't met for a couple of months. That's progress, dear readers.

I have this annual tradition of trying to watch all the Oscar nominated movies before the awards are actually given out. Not that I am biased to like only the nominated films. It's just that we in India hear about only the commercially successful films. Anyway, back to the story.

Sunday arrived, and I decided to watch "Rush" the moment I woke up. In this surreal string of movies, I thought some disappointment is in store. Surely the next one can't be any better? But the bar just kept going higher.

"Her" was one of the nine nominated movies, available only in one theater in Mumbai. There was a 1.30 PM show, and a 11 PM show.
The theater was a good 20 kms away.
The clock said 12.30 PM.

Inside my head:

"Sure, the obvious choice is 11 PM now. The night will be cooler to travel, and it's too late to go for the 1.30 show now. 
Or is it?
I need 15 mins to get ready. Which means I'm likely to reach around 1.45, and miss the first 10-15 mins. 
No way.
Or yes way? How about it ? Kishore Pisapati vs Mumbai Traffic.. Kishore and the incredible race against time.. 
..
.....
Get ready, idiot!
It's now or never."

I got off the train at Dadar, and my watch read 1.25. Music was pumping into my earphones, and the track was an adrenaline upping one. I still had to travel 10 mins by cab from the highway outside the station.

Of course, the journey had obstacles. And time was running out. How else would it be fun? Bring it, Dadar.

And so I started to run.

People, peddlers, people, flower baskets, vegetables, garbage, people, people, etc were some of the obstacles. I swerved between and past them with mesmerizing speed. The music had a telling effect.

I took my seat at 1.45, and the movie began two minutes later.

That run was a spiritual experience in some ways. During that run, I had a revelation. I remembered how Jake Sully felt when he first ran in his Avatar, in the movie Avatar. 

You see, it wasn't the physical speed of the body that mattered. It was the mere act of running, and the context, which made me feel like I was flying.

It was weightlessness. To run, without a care in the world. I knew I was out of the pit.

People often give their own definitions to scientific terms, and here's me defining the term 'infinite'.

Infinite is the number of things you can do to enjoy life, at any time, in any circumstances.

The run was an act of passion for my love, the movies. And love needs to be shown, not just felt.

Remember what I said the bar getting raised by the movies I was watching in fast succession? It was hence unfathomable, that any movie could top Rush on the same day. 

"Her" did. It was beautiful.

Infinite is the extent to which you can feel, and live.

No conditions applied.

The Price of Benevolence

People often say that the Mumbai local is the lifeline of the city. But since I don't need to travel long distances on a daily basis, I seem to have developed a similar relationship with the Mumbai Auto.

This isn't to say that every single auto-ride is a memorable one. We have a tendency to pay lesser attention to things we do regularly. But the outlier is always lurking close by, unbeknownst to us. This particular anecdote is one of those outliers.

It was an overcast morning, and I was lost in one of my reveries as the auto honked and swerved towards my destination. In a matter of minutes, it was time to alight. The meter read 21 rupees.

"Bhaiyya yeh lo 20 rs. Ek rupiah kam hai, chalega?"
(Here's 20 bucks. Is it okay? I don't have a rupee's change)

"Haan, haan.. chalega"
(Will do.)

And then he started off saying about money and change - I was too self-involved to pay particular attention. But as I was putting back the wallet in my pocket, I kept politely nodding along.

Suddenly, he whipped out all the money he had and showed it to me - whilst I heard the words "mera beta", and "hospital", and "700 rs injection". I could make out the rest, as you can too.

I looked at him properly. I could sense he was flustered when had stopped midway to quickly repair something in the auto.

Instinctively, I pulled out a hundred rupee note and handed it over without reluctance. He fell at my knees, eyes full of tears, with gratitude. I told him to rush to his son and take care of him. And he left.

For the first few seconds, I felt good. As any normal person should, when he/she has been of value someone in need. Great need.

But then I felt a stab of disappointment at myself, and this feeling has persisted.

There was a 500 rupee note in my wallet as well.

I may differ from general consensus here, but I have never really cared much about money. One might say "Who does, as long as it keeps coming?". True, perhaps. I don't count myself a big spender. Nevertheless, at that particular point of time, 500 rupees was not even a pinprick. So why did I hesitate?

There is the possibility, as one might argue - that he was lying. And taking that possibility into account, 100 rupees was probably the right amount. But this was not the the thought process in my head.

I remember seeing a couple or more notes of 100 rupees, and I thought this would suffice. Not for a second did I believe he was lying. Especially not after seeing him break down like that.

How many times do we ignore beggars and peddlers, on the streets and railway stations? How many hundreds of times have we intentionally walked away or shooed them brusquely?

But this was an autowallah. A man with a seemingly honest profession. It would've taken something of monumental importance for him to abandon his self-respect and ask for money.

Then the worst possible thought occurred to me - what if those few hundred rupees was the difference between his son's life and death? Wouldn't it be blood on my hands? True, I am not responsible for his illness - but I was offered the chance to save his life.

I hope you get my meaning here. I'm not the kind of person who would go to orphanages and dedicate my life to making theirs easier. But that doesn't mean I'm not humanitarian.

I don't think it is possible to draw a line on "doing good". Would anything ever be enough? No matter how much you give, there'll be something more you can do. Something more to offer. But I am neither Midas, nor my wallet is of gold.

This feeling - arising out of the eternal difference between people's needs, and our capacities - this guilt - is what I call the price of benevolence.

A little change of heart

When I first started blogging, I didn't really know what to write about. Not that I have the greatest ideas nowadays, but the purpose has changed, and so have I.

The 'How I met my Employer' series definitely takes the cake, having given it a novel-like feel. But some posts were, now that I think about it, a little controversial and narrowminded. It was about justifying my own opinions, all the time.

Mumbai has taught me to respect a wider range of thoughts and choices. The diversity of people never ceases to amaze me. Ask someone what they think of a movie: you're likely to get five different opinions from five different people. Chances are you might find it disturbing: that someone loved Ra.One, or hated Black Swan, or liked 'Mere Brother ki Dulhan'. You might also judge people for supporting a club you hate, or listening to Justin 
Bieber.


All this used to bother me a lot before, and I talked to an esoteric group of people. A few weeks before, I was at the back of a cab with my friends from college, who'd come to visit me in Mumbai. We were discussing about which movie to watch, and at some point I suggested Agneepath, which was met by laughter laced with contempt and mockery. "Dude, since when did you start watching Hindi Movies?", one of them asked. I told them I'd watched most movies in recent times, including Ra.One, Rockstar, The Dirty Picture etc. 


They couldn't believe it. The guy, who enjoyed delving into the psychologically thought provoking depths of cinema, watching all this?

Yes. I think I've learnt to enjoy Bollywood movies. But does this mean that I just watch movies for entertainment, and no longer enjoy intellectually challenging movies? Absolutely not.

So what changed?


There's a song in the movie, 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind', and it goes like this:

"Change your heart
Look around you
Change your heart
It will astound you.."

That's exactly what happened to me recently, and it's not just about the movies.

The more restricted your thoughts and opinions are, the more black and white the world will look to you. It's upto you how you like the world.

I didn't know it was this colorful.


Try being okay with something you weren't before, and see how much color it brings. Start with the little things, like a hindi movie, or dancing in a party..anything. It might even be the likes and dislikes of someone. If that girl isn't into oscar winning movies, or doesn't look sophisticated enough, then deal with it. You might suddenly notice how curiously enchanting her eyes are, or how wonderfully charming her simplicity is.

If you give it enough time, you'll begin to look for the brighter side in every little thing, and it will soon become a way of life.


This Valentine's day, I may not have had a special someone, but I've started to fall in love with this world. All with a little change of heart.


The beauty of life is, no matter how good or bad it already is, you don't know how much better it can be.


Go add some color.

Just Relax

Time and again you hear stories or watch movies where some major incident happens to someone, in total randomness, and somehow changes that person's life.

It's been six months in Mumbai now, and looking back at 2011, the contrast between the first and second half of the year has been stupendous for me.


While there wasn't a single person to talk to in the first, I've been surrounded by so many ever since Mumbai happened. Heck, I was meeting five different people everyday for the first couple of weeks.


If I could, I'd place a ruler on the screen, draw a vertical line and state the differences like a question for five marks. But I won't go into details here as I'm pretty sure people know what living in Mumbai means. It's different for me since I jumped so suddenly from Baroda to Bombay, much like an atom from the innermost shell to the outermost one. (I thought I should include atleast one geeky joke to remind myself that I'm actually an engineer)


This is a city of a wonderful plethora of people, and I have really enjoyed being a part of the lives of some very special people.

For many a year now, I've been constantly told that I think too much. These people I'm talking about have carried on that tradition as well.


Some of us just can't help it. We just have the tendency to overthink every little thing. You hear words like 'Just Chill', 'Abe senti kyun ho raha hai', 'Dude just relax..', and it can be really irritating. But after yesterday, I simply have to accept that those words make sense.


It was a typical Friday evening. The five of us hadn't had a fun friday together for a while, what with people going home or elsewhere for Christmas and New year's eve. We were going in groups of two and three, me being one of the two.


Time and traffic were in plenty, and random trains of thought led the two of us to talk about career, what we're doing, what we want... you know the story. The auto driver pulled the brakes awkwardly in the middle of a highway, since a Santro was standing as well.


Moments later, we heard a loud screech of brakes, then crash. Before we could figure out why exactly the car was stopped there, another rammed into the rear of our vehicle, knocking us halfway off our seats. And as we were spontaneously figuring out how to react, there was another series of screech, crash and jerk.


Since this isn't a movie, I don't have to explain and describe the shouting and arguing that ensued, so I'll get straight to the point: There wasn't much damage done to the vehicles, and everyone escaped unscathed.


Okay, I didn't exactly escape impending death here. But I don't want to wait for an actual fatal incident and other drama to come walking by and change my life. I'd rather make the best of what's already happened.

What it did was bring out a simple and obvious truth: You may think you're the most normal person in the world, reading weird scary stuff in the papers everyday, thinking surely that's never gonna happen to me. You might have planned every second of your life for the next ten years.


But the fact is, all that can be obliterated in a millisecond, without you sensing it coming at all.


All week I've been depressed because everyone seems to know what they're doing, and I don't even know what I want. Yesterday was definitely a hint.


Before anything else, I want to live.


And when I say this, I don't mean that every single minute I'm thinking, 'OMG I could die anytime. I'll just do/say what I want today!'


What I mean is, one needs to draw a line. Sometimes we forget this and overthink.
But from now on, I'll make a conscious effort to just relax. I never made any new year resolutions before, this looks like a good one to start with.

Happy New Year everyone! :)

2012: The first of hopefully many fridays :)