He had always wanted to visit Bombay as a young man (apologies, it is Mumbai, now;
but then, he always remembered Mumbai as Bombay). It had been an intense city
to his mind, as his experiences of Bombay in the late seventies (he was in his late
teens, at that point in time) were intertwined with a depth of intense feeling, perhaps, melancholy
is what came to mind. Associating Bombay
with melancholy is unheard of; in this city of dreams. Perhaps, it was the
desolateness and hopelessness, which had pervaded his mind at that point of
time, that evoked such strong feelings inside him.
When he first traveled to Bombay by a train from Bangalore,
it was raining heavily when he reached the outskirts of Bombay. The bustling activity in the station had jolted him out of the deep slumber, which he had fallen into while the train had glided slowly into the station. At a station on the outskirts, he had to
switch trains and board a local train at about 3 AM in the morning. The local train was overflowing with milkmen
and their families loading and unloading huge milk cans into and out of the
train. He had reached his uncle’s place
in about ten minutes by the local train.
His first impression of Bombay, was, that the city never sleeps. People were going about their activity at all
times of the day and night. Many a time,
he had wondered when and where do these people sleep, amidst all the hustle and bustle?
For the next few days, he gradually explored the city,
as he had nothing much to do. He had completed
his graduation in Bangalore and landed in Mumbai (staying in his uncle’s place
on the outskirts of Bombay) in search of a job.
The job searches consisted of merely looking into the columns of Times
of India newspaper daily for any suitable opening, which was hard to come by,
during the late seventies.
He bought a second class season train pass for the entire
month from the part of the city (where he was residing) to the centre of the
city that was, Victoria Terminus, called VT, those days. After his morning breakfast, he had set
himself a daily routine of boarding the train and travelling to VT station. From there on, he had no place to go. He explored the city walking alone from the
VT station to the nearby places that he fancied, mostly in the direction of the
Arabian Sea, which was quite near to the station; this was at a walking
distance of half hour, at the most. Sometimes
he walked down to Crawford Market or to Colaba.
His regular walks within the vicinity of the VT station had become a
sort of daily ritual. Being young and
alone in Bombay with hardly any money, can be quite exhausting and excruciating. The lonely walks created an intense feeling
of disenchantment in his mind. Just looking at the Sea intently, while lazily strolling on the sands of a beach, alone, can be a rather jolting
and tiring experience. Once this daily job
of staring at the Sea was done, he used to hurry back by the late afternoon
local train to the part of the city, where he was staying with his uncle, after partaking of a light meal in a nearby cafe.
The experience of boarding and alighting from the
local trains in Bombay, was, in itself, a huge and scary experience. Luckily for him, he used to board the train
after the mad office rush was over in the morning times and even before the
evening office rush started, he used to travel back to his place of stay. He had learnt the trick of avoiding the rush
hour on the local trains as it was a physical impossibility to get into or get
out of the train during those mad rush hours. One
had to be a seasoned veteran of Bombay to master the tricks of boarding and
alighting from the local trains during peak hours. He was not quite there, yet.
In the first few days, he used to watch this mad rush
of humanity, boarding and alighting from the local trains, with amusement. After a few days, the amazement faded away and
it was fast becoming normal routine with him, as well. He wouldn’t call himself an expert, in this
activity, though he had a few close calls, a couple of times. It had almost felt that his end had come,
during those times, when he was left dangling, hanging without any support holding on to the ledge of the train doors. He
had miraculously scraped through, surviving those terrifying moments. He could now say, that he was lucky to be
alive.
The vast sea of humanity, that is Bombay, is an
experience, in itself, that one can never get over. The sheer number of people, in every direction
you look at, is just mind-boggling. Despite the vast number of people, the place can be
humbling and quite lonely. Being a shy
and reticent person, he had difficulty in striking acquaintances in the trains
or at the beaches. He stood staring, sometimes, at
the various moods of the Arabian Sea, the dirt and remains it carried to the
shore; huge ships and trawlers were visible at a distance. He was devoid of human company and wanted
someone with whom he could share his thoughts and the situation he had put himself in.
One sunny morning, during one of his long walks on the
Seashore, he came very close to striking friendship with a beautiful girl, who appeared
to be of his own age. She had a dog with
her. He first thought that she smiled at
him, though this was more of his imagination, playing tricks on his mind. She was slowing down as she approached him. The girl was of medium height, wearing a
smart dress with long hairs flowing down her neck. He was tempted to strike a conversation with this
girl as she was comely in appearance and was alone; other than the dog, she was
holding on to, at the other end of the leash. As she neared him, he remarked that the dog she owned, looked beautiful and he asked her, what
was the breed of the dog. She replied
something, which he couldn't remember now.
What actually he wanted to say to her was that she looked beautiful and
would she be friends with him. It was an
awkward moment. The girl was looking at
him inquiringly, as she paused right in front of him. She appeared more beautiful now and her eyes
were sparkling; she had long eye lashes. There was a hint of a smile on her face, as
she looked at him. He was dumbstruck and
could hardly speak another word; as the girl came near him, her close presence and the
perfume she wore held him in a mesmerizing spell. He was speechless, staring dumbly at her. He let go of the moment. The girl walked away slightly disappointed. He kept on staring after the girl, as she
disappeared in a distance. He had a
strange feeling, perhaps, he thought this was what people called love at first
sight.
From that moment on, his mind was in a strange whirl. His mind was racing with mixed emotions,
unable to fathom what was happening in his mind. He desperately wanted another opportunity to just
see this girl, even for a moment. During
his entire stay, of nearly an year in Bombay, he never came across this girl
again. A strange sort of hopelessness
had swept over him, disappointed in his own shy and reticent nature; adding to
his hopeless situation was the fact that he could never find a job in Bombay
during his long stay, in the city. People
called it the city of dreams, but, not to his mind. He returned to Bangalore, shortly afterwards,
empty handed.
The story of life is not without its strange twists
and turns. It turned out that the girl
he fleetingly met on a beach in Bombay, so many years ago, was to become his
life partner. She is married to him now. They had met in a common relative’s home
during a function, several years later after their first meeting in Mumbai. She still chides him about his dumbstruck
stare on the beach, whenever they chance to visit Mumbai.
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