Never before have I set out on a much awaited trip with such mixed feelings. I had wanted to go to Bombay for quite some time, especially now that I had friends there. Finally the ideal opportunity presented itself on the diwali weekend – a four day sojourn – just the right period to have a vacation but not get bored. Yet after I had bought the tickets upto the point I boarded the flight, the anticipation was mixed with apprehensions – was I in the right frame of mind to go on a trip? Was Bombay the right place to get away?? Would the relationship with sidharth stand the pressure of continuous days? Would Jassi be the right company?and did I really want to be with people…without an exit option?
Doubts flew away in the intense humid air of Bombay as the taxi bumped towards powai. My arrival at sidharth’s place will always remain in my memory for the sheer feeling of relief that it brought to me. I am surprised at my usage of this word, but relief is what I felt, the relief of encountering with easy familiarity a part of myself that I maybe had feared dormant. The warm greeting, the sinking into the sofa with the shoes off, the instinctive knowledge that beer would be just right, the aimless chatting, the lack of pressure to go somewhere else…yes, the relief I felt set the tone for the next few days, in fact it changed the way I viewed this trip entirely.
After a long time, I spent an extended period of time with a close friend, something which I had probably missed more than I realized. One can argue that the 60 to 120 meetings can bring a level of quality to conversation that is equivalent to 2 or 3 days of hanging around on campus. But that’s a bit like saying that ready to cook microwave food brings the same amount of nutrients that a leisurely cooked meal would. But its not a question of what you get out of a conversation, but what depth it brings to you. And paradoxically, the best way of building depth in a relationship is through companionship that covers in detail the climax scenes of the latest movie and lightly touches on the existential crises facing the participants.
While this brought relief, an entirely different set of emotions was a pleasant novelty. Kabir took over my heart, not to mention time, and how. Somehow taking care of him didn’t feel like work and traveling all the way to Bombay to spend hours chatting with a baby who gurgled didn’t feel wrong. I wont try to dissect this further but suffice to say that this experience strengthened my resolve to have a baby in a few years, not necessarily through the time tested route of marriage. Or maybe I will put myself in shoes of a conservative Indian girl and decide to get married in order to have babies? But that’s for another time.
Bombay itself was what it had always promised to be – a lover who excited and irritated you at the same time! It felt like a false start with powai and its hiranandani gardens that were organized, well finished and aesthetic; it returned in full form in bandra and juhu that displayed the expected feverish energy, carefully underdressed crowds, oblivious to the world lovers, matchbox apartments and clogged roads. Town was glorious, comfortable in its own skin, coolly looking out at the world without a trace of obvious snobbery…soft steel. Even the bright sun and chirpy crowds couldn’t diminish the pleasure of walking around the fountain, looking at century old buildings and plastic roadside products. The visit to jehangir art gallery and café samovar was a pleasant bonus (thanks Shweta) and the mental tribute to daddy in the form of the ferry ride and sea side café was as enjoyable as it used to be. Midnight on marine drive – shabby footpath and badly dressed people – and juhu beach – tacky lights and stinking sea – was love at first sight. Can I please move there?
Now I am back. And I know I will go back for more. After some time, but I will.
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