My life in Manipal begins at the Syndicate circle and ends at Tiger Circle or might go as far as Kamath Circle if my delicate time permits me to travel to the campus buzzed MIT for some sumptuous dinner at the new food court.
I began scribbling this piece as I told my Dad I would, sitting in a Mumbai local train from Borveli to Andheri, which is now far different from what I experienced this morning. The cabin presently is accommodating an accurate 21 that in the morning carried a near 250, with each person’s face shoved into someone else’s armpit, literally! What you really need to be worrying about is the odor produced by the mixture of sweats as a collective collaboration rather than the individual contribution. Everybody talks to the other as if nobody else is listening. They sing songs in choir as if nobody else exists. That’s what seeing soo many people everyday does to you, I guess. Some old man talked of his retirement and his son leaving to the U.S for a high pay job. A woman complained about her husband. Young men discussing about their jobs, making more money and new weekend plans. Some girl just wanted some Vodka! Well, I was listening. Nobody cared if you; the stranger is eavesdropping not.
Bombay is prosperous. All they repeated was- ‘Bombay, the city of dreams, where everything is possible. A city that never sleeps.’ The locals run beyond 1:30am into the night!
Bombay is cheap. Anybody can survive in Mumbai. A vadapav for Rs. 6, Nimbu pani Rs.4 and there is food everywhere. There are these, amazing stuff just made out of bread and hand-made like the mini pizza and sandwitches that are a big hit with the aam aadmi.
Bombay is luxurious. There are cafes at bay and alongside popular streets like the European style (the way, I like to call them) flooded with the fair skinned foreigners. They are a true bliss. The buildings grow notoriously longitudinally, oh, what do you think, we have no other choice, the only direction left, they will say! The night before on my way to Mumbai, the co-passenger suggested me to sit by the Marine drive where romance is high even under the hot commercial Sun and stare at the cars that pass by. He said, at first you’ll say this to yourself and then out loud; “fuck, when has India got so rich man?!”
I randomly remarked in my RABITS that I can’t eat too much cheese and a maximum of 5 spoons of pasta that I can relish in one sitting. I hate beer too; too much of a time and calorie consumption to get to a 50ml high spirits. But the combination of these at the Leopold’s was something I never tried before and I must admit, it was amazing. It’s that weird feeling of your stomach burning with hunger and the temperature rising with the beer and you satiating it with the cheese paparika sprinkled cream Chicken pasta alongside!
Life in Manipal may begin from TC and ends in KC but life in Bombay is beyond Borevili to Churchgate. . .
I began scribbling this piece as I told my Dad I would, sitting in a Mumbai local train from Borveli to Andheri, which is now far different from what I experienced this morning. The cabin presently is accommodating an accurate 21 that in the morning carried a near 250, with each person’s face shoved into someone else’s armpit, literally! What you really need to be worrying about is the odor produced by the mixture of sweats as a collective collaboration rather than the individual contribution. Everybody talks to the other as if nobody else is listening. They sing songs in choir as if nobody else exists. That’s what seeing soo many people everyday does to you, I guess. Some old man talked of his retirement and his son leaving to the U.S for a high pay job. A woman complained about her husband. Young men discussing about their jobs, making more money and new weekend plans. Some girl just wanted some Vodka! Well, I was listening. Nobody cared if you; the stranger is eavesdropping not.
Bombay is prosperous. All they repeated was- ‘Bombay, the city of dreams, where everything is possible. A city that never sleeps.’ The locals run beyond 1:30am into the night!
Bombay is cheap. Anybody can survive in Mumbai. A vadapav for Rs. 6, Nimbu pani Rs.4 and there is food everywhere. There are these, amazing stuff just made out of bread and hand-made like the mini pizza and sandwitches that are a big hit with the aam aadmi.
Bombay is luxurious. There are cafes at bay and alongside popular streets like the European style (the way, I like to call them) flooded with the fair skinned foreigners. They are a true bliss. The buildings grow notoriously longitudinally, oh, what do you think, we have no other choice, the only direction left, they will say! The night before on my way to Mumbai, the co-passenger suggested me to sit by the Marine drive where romance is high even under the hot commercial Sun and stare at the cars that pass by. He said, at first you’ll say this to yourself and then out loud; “fuck, when has India got so rich man?!”
I randomly remarked in my RABITS that I can’t eat too much cheese and a maximum of 5 spoons of pasta that I can relish in one sitting. I hate beer too; too much of a time and calorie consumption to get to a 50ml high spirits. But the combination of these at the Leopold’s was something I never tried before and I must admit, it was amazing. It’s that weird feeling of your stomach burning with hunger and the temperature rising with the beer and you satiating it with the cheese paparika sprinkled cream Chicken pasta alongside!
Life in Manipal may begin from TC and ends in KC but life in Bombay is beyond Borevili to Churchgate. . .
1 comment:
Good one. You have made the 'Essential Bombay First Reactions' list. Spend a little more time there and you will learn a lot more. It is great city to reflect on and learn from.
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