For those who live in the big city, it is impossible to set foot outside without confronting the roiling clamor of turmoil that is Mumbai. From the most affluent parts of the city to the vicinities of its many shanties, the chaos is almost identical.
There are myriad excruciating
malodours. There is the unmistakable stink caused by the never-ending
piles of discarded garbage. There are vehicles emanating the most toxic of
fumes whose inhalation causes penetrating headaches. The stench of rotting
vegetables is everywhere near the vegetable markets. On occasions, there is the
reek of urine and excrement of myriad species. One can fill pages if one
intends to make an inventory of the variety of miasmas across the city. It is
like a nightmare of a circus for your olfactory senses.
Then there are the noises. The
revolting cacophony is created by the combination of sounds produced by revving
vehicular engines, honking, human voices of myriad volumes, the interminable
drilling on the construction sites, hollering hawkers, and the
periodic train sirens. Many films and documentaries seeking to depict the
reality of the chaotic city merely used these sounds instead of a background
score. This is a vicious assault on your eardrums.
Finally, there crowds and traffic jams.
Crowding is a way of life in Mumbai, wherever you go there are people stepping
on your toes and breathing in your face. They are boisterous, malodourous, and perspiring,
fiercely competitive always pulling and pushing to get ahead and not a bother
in the world about the other human being.
Then there is the frequent
bumper-to-bumper traffic, as you anxiously try to navigate across the road as
the traffic crawls across you pray to every deity in the heavens for survival.
As the prayer is in progress you realized you may have stepped into to matter
that emanated from a human body.
How can one expect to live like this?
The city is an unmitigated nightmare.
Much like every Mumbaikar, I often imagined, what a joy it would be for the ghastly chaos to melt into thin air. For there to be quietness all over, for the crowds, the insane traffic, and noisy vehicles to disappear. This is a fantasy that would never ever be realized in a hustling and bustling city, but that’s what dreams are for.
The future was about to deliver that impossible dream with the lockdowns.
This was the first time I could inhale
deeply and there was nothing but pure air. I could hear the chirping of birds
for the very first time in the city. I could walk comfortably even stretch both
my hands out like the Christ the Redeemer. There was nobody stepping on my toes
or breathing in my face.
This should have been an ineffably joyous
experience, but instead, the feeling was rather unnerving and eerie. It was
like spooky silence caused after a hurricane had ravaged all over. The
silence caused by fear of losing a loved one. The silence caused by deep
concern about the future. The silence of a city in a deep coma.
The presence of masks all over makes us
focus on the eyes. The eyes are supposed to be the window to the soul. Here,
the eyes told a story of urgency, panic, and acute paranoia.
It was almost like walking through a
graveyard. In many ways, it was a graveyard of shattered dreams,
crushed aspirations, and destroyed lives.
Behind every pulled-down shutter, every
parked vehicle, every human being compelled to stay indoors is a story of lost opportunities
and dreams gradually being crushed.
This wasn't the dream that I had
envisioned, it was in fact an appalling and never-ending nightmare.
One has often heard world-weary elderly warn us with the customary ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I now know with absolute clarity what they meant.
Here’s hoping that the noise, crowds,
traffic jams, pollution, chaos, and above all the ceaseless zeal to make a roaring comeback
to my favorite city that never sleeps
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