Mumbai - befriended and warmed.
So I don’t know where to begin; it’s like understanding the difference between living and surviving – invisible and non-existent. Deep stuff, right? Yeah see, I could go on but to break it down I was scared….scared stiff.
First time flying; I buckled in fear, anger, skepticism and the seat belt. I was thinking to myself “what if the landing gear’s axed away?” I peered through for help and held on to my seat with utmost warmth and love, at least that’s what I’d like to call it. I turned my head left, sneered at the co-passenger who was doing the same, thinking to myself “what a wimp?”
I was surprised to survive the landing. Landing gear was not axed and the only question I had was, “will I survive Mumbai for a week?” I started to look for the X-factor just to exterminate the wimp-factor. Sudhakar put me in a cab; I’m going to be driven into the land of undulating pain. I wanted to call my folks and speak to them for one last time, but I heard this voice-over in my head “why don’t you also touch your pants and see if it’s wet?” Neither I touched my pants nor did I call my folks. Moving on – driving on, exited and exiled.
The cabbie was an old “kool dude”, warm and cold. He wiped off the pan effervescence from the corner of his lips which was like the fizz from the compressed tin of coke. He offered the same hand for a shake, I handed my luggage on to that hand. The pan smell/fragrance in the cab was arousing, no wait, it was nauseating. He started talking; the pan juice sprinkled all over and rained on me like shrapnel. Thoughts as they rumble in my head, I still haven’t found the X-factor. Moving on – driving on, spat and splashed.
He pulled the cab over on the highway; this is where I was supposed to run for life. Perspiration at its finest; holding on to my dear life, slowly turned my head to see what he’s up to. He was looking for something. My life flashed before me for one last time. He got out of the cab with a water bottle. I was trembling and, nothing lets just keep it that way, I was only trembling. He gargled and spat every piece of pan, he also used his fingers to clean his cavities, went really hard on that pan debris. He came back inside, with a grin like he just brushed his teeth and said something in Hindi. All I comprehended was he’s going to chew another one later, but my wild guess was he also was sorry, or I wanted to think so. Moving on – driving on, dazed and amazed.
He spoke and spoke, my “achas” were getting too repetitive so I replaced it with “theek hais”, being a stranger in the strange land makes you want to talk less, more convenient when you don’t speak either of the languages or not. I was trying to frame a sentence to convey “don’t speak to me unless you’re spoken to”, but something went wrong or right somewhere I felt so bad, trying to say that. I don’t know if it’s the two pints of the fermented liquid in me or the pan fragrance in the cab, anyway the cab became my Bodhgaya, I did attain the enlightenment. Moving on – driving on, enlightened and ashamed.
After attaining the enlightenment or realizing what a stuck up jerk I was, I started to talk along in “my Hindi.” I did frame a sentence; I said “aap mumbai ka mera first friend hai”. This time he grabbed my hand, shook it and said many thanks. Moving on – Driving on, befriended and warmed.