Emancipated City...

They wanted to harass me today. I am usually a mundane slug, unmotivated by the passing time. But there are occasional bursts of energy, more from guilt than passion. You don’t see them coming and you wish they wouldn’t ask permission to leave. They harassed me today. I call them spikes.

My mind is a brat. It won’t learn from my mistakes. It is a stubborn brat. And here I am nursing it, away from family in Bombay. Yeah Bombay, but I am somewhere apprehensive, for its going to be time to bid farewell, soon.

You know how the most compelling dramas evolve not from observation but by the discovery of ignorance. Living in a microcosm where clichés prevail and subvert adventure, we often find ourselves staring into a parochial sphere which has no corners. Such perfection usually clouds our vision restricts it to what we see rather than what we can.

Two years in a city like Bombay make you more sensitive to paradoxes. But you need commendable gumption to reach out and explore a protean culture like Bombay. I should probably digress to describe my uncanny willingness to absorb passing vagaries and make them my pursuits. No. I am kidding. This post is about Bombay, a city that caught and still dominates my imagination. It can be hard to relate to if u suffer from the ignorance of the north specially Delhi, but the unending night outs, incessant local trains take no time to drench you with the Mumbai spirit. Another notable feature is the dressing sense which prevails in our female counterparts, truly worth appreciating, a welcome change from the flab in Delhi. But the people in Bombay are only half the story for the other half is the Bombay in the people. Those eternal times spent observing people outside nightclubs, outside restaurants, outside Bade Miyan, outside Cooper’s, outside Leopold, Churchill and Mondegar, weren’t spent alone for there were always early however late you were. It is never late in Bombay, never early; your time is a good time. These first experiences put forth on my platter a lot to explore and savour, the music had set me rolling.

What was to follow stemmed from the acceptance of the superfluous, for it was always about challenging the limit of adventure of satiation.

Near the top of Marine Drive is the H2O Water Sports Complex, you can take a boat out to Suzie Wong's, floating in the middle of Back Bay, a funky pink, purple, red and gold drinking den. Down in Colaba, ultra trendy Indigo all low tables and flickering candles – is the perfect place to sip a Bombay Sapphire and tonic. For a cold beer in hot surroundings, but with views on to the bustling street outside, we had Leopold and Modegar.

The fascinating east – west divide and the lesser publicized north – south divide, holds the charm of visitors in Bombay. It is like wherever you have been you must see something better. The congestion, filth, the houses below the sea level perpetually in water, the dwelling of cardboards surrounding the high rises – well Bombay has most of everything.

Whether it is the negros and the Israelis on the streets of Colaba, trying to sell you dope, or the messages on your mobile which say - "For meeting broadminded male / females in your area, Call Poonam now @ 982.....”, or the late nights at JVPD, eyeing ‘out of work’ beer bar dancers. You could see hope in there eyes.

This would sound more like the script of clockwork orange, if we were people of action, people who could shoulder responsibility of notoriety. But alas as I had mentioned I am just a mundane slug.