Some places are etched in your core memory. It’s not just because you called a place home for a significant amount of time — it’s more because you met amazing people there who continue to be part of your life. It’s also because the place offered you experiences, both bitter and sweet, that make up your DNA as a human being. Those experiences gave you a sense of self and made you the person you are today.
If I were to pick one place, having called six cities home until today, it would undoubtedly be Mumbai.
I remember being impressed by the city as a five-year-old child. It was my birthday, and my father took me to Jijamata Udyan — a zoo in downtown Mumbai — as a treat. It was pouring down, as is typical for that time of year in Mumbai, since my birthday falls in the peak of monsoon. I was wearing my new overalls, and as soon as we got off the bus at Dadar, we were soaking wet. I don’t remember a great deal about the animals we saw at the zoo, but I do remember the warm comfort of corn on the cob, freshly roasted on the pavement outside the zoo premises.
I remember taking a BEST bus to Girgaon to visit my aunt. My aunt had made sheera and cauliflower bhaji, my favourites, since it was my birthday. From then on, I decided that this was my favourite place on earth.
I kept coming to my aunt’s place for all my Diwali and summer vacations for seven years!
Going to the Japanese Garden for evening play, the aquarium, or an occasional movie; heading to Chowpatty for yummy chaat; making friends in the building; the tasty meals my aunt made; temple visits to the Saibaba temple nearby with my cousin — all the ingredients that made Mumbai my happy place.
As I went to high school and the curriculum got demanding, my vacation visits to Mumbai ceased, with only occasional trips to visit my uncle and aunt.
Another vivid memory is when my grandmother passed away. I travelled to Mumbai from Uran, where I was vacationing with my grandparents. My father picked me up to take me with him to Girgaon. All we knew was that Aaji had had a heart attack again and that we needed to go to her with all her past medical records. We reached the hospital, and my father asked for her. The doctor said, “Sorry, they took her home a couple of hours back — we could not save her.”
My father was not prepared for the news. He broke down in that moment but gathered himself and took me to the car. As we reached the building, we saw people gathered in the quadrangle below, preparing for a funeral. My happy place suddenly had shades of grey — seeing my grandmother lying there on the floor as we said our final goodbyes. As the shock of the inevitability of death subsided a little, I realised that all of us cousins were together in that house after a really long time. By the thirteenth-day feast, it was hard to tell if it was mourning or celebration. Somehow that grey streak added a beautiful accent to my happy place.
Soon after, my uncle and aunt decided to sell the place and move to Panvel to be closer to us. A golden chapter of my love story with Mumbai had ended.
As I took my school-leaving exam, my elder uncle took me one day to the Mumbai University campus — a place that would go on to build my future. My uncle was a botany enthusiast, and as we walked through the vast university campus, he would introduce me to each tree by its Marathi name and botanical name, clicking new pictures of the tree in bloom and in fruit for his collection. He was my Google before Google! I met Mumbai in a new light, a new mood, like never before.
As I geared up for my final year of high school, it was my birthday again, and this time I asked my father for an Allwyn Trendy watch, which came in five colour options for the strap and dial case. Once again, my father came up with a plan to buy my gift from his old, trusted watch shop, Lawrence Watch Co., at Victoria Terminus. His side plan was to ride his scooter to VT rather than take a train. My mother had no inkling of this plan. As decided, on the day my mother left for work, we got on the scooter and rode off. All was well until we were about a hundred yards from Lawrence Watch Co. when, out of nowhere, our scooter’s rearview mirror collided with a taxi’s. The scooter swerved out of control, throwing both rider and passenger in opposite directions.
Passers-by helped us to our feet. We picked up the scooter, my father gave it some basic first aid, and both of us rode straight on to Lawrence Watch Co. I got my watch, and it looked even better than in the TV ad. We ate at Aram, our favourite Maharashtrian food joint near VT, and then started our journey back to Panvel, before it was time for my Aai to get back home.
Everything went as planned. When Aai got home, I showed her my present, oh so proudly! She immediately noticed the scrapes on my knees and elbows — the only flaw in an otherwise impeccable plan. I had to tell her the truth. That year, I had a mother who wouldn’t speak to me or my father, standing alongside me as I cut my birthday cake.
After my junior college days, I decided to do my degree in my hometown, but I couldn’t cope with the cultural shock of a conservative, slow-paced environment. A run-of-the-mill life did not inspire me at all. I decided to apply to a college in the Mumbai suburbs, and in the first year made a few friends for life. We don’t meet as often as we would like, but we definitely keep in touch.
Living in Vile Parle, working towards my degree, I felt very much at home with everything life threw at me. Even new, uncharted waters had a familiar resonance to them.
After my degree, I moved back to my hometown for a break year and worked in marketing. That year, I felt Mumbai beckoning me like a foghorn, and I decided to go back to take a journalism qualification. This time it was back to the heart of Mumbai. Downtown Mumbai still bears indelible signs of colonial influence, with its majestic buildings and monuments. My favourite thing to do soon became strolling with my friends along Marine Drive in the evenings. The Queen’s Necklace dazzled as the sun went down and the street lights came up.
The curriculum inherently encouraged us to explore the city — be it watching a film at Eros for our critical review assignments, or attending an exhibition opening at Jehangir Art Gallery for our features homework. And it wasn’t just work — hanging out with my classmates happened over signature pastries at Gaylord, shopping on Colaba Causeway, walking to Churchgate subway for the day’s copy of The Hindu, browsing for hidden treasures in the old bookshops on the pavements, and spending hours at the Asiatic Library — not just to read, but even just to sit on its magnificent steps, arguing, gossiping, and debating opposing points of view on the issues of the day. Mumbai slowly assimilated into my system, shaping my worldview, forming my core values, and teaching me to be inclusive as my default setting.
Life has taken me away from Mumbai for now, but I know in my bones that I will come back. I definitely have a few more laughs, a few more rendezvous, a few more strides left in me in this city — or rather, in this emotion called Mumbai.