Why Mumbai?

It isn't an easy life. It isn't a settled life. It isn't a predictable life. But it is a life that reveals a lot.

Every month, we visit the doctor. Every month, we crib about the rent. As I grudgingly close the windows to keep the noise out, I think about my hometown, where we only closed the windows to keep the cold out. Dust was never a problem. Noise was never a problem. Rent? We lived in our own house. A house we owned. Ours. Ours.

Photo by Jaspinder Singh on Unsplash

And yet, I choose to live here—in Mumbai. People are surprised when they learn where I am from. They feel my choice to live in Mumbai is because of some strange ambition that only this city can fulfill. But neither do I have any lofty goals of owning a seaside bungalow nor do I harbor any dreams of working in the film industry. Yes, Mumbai is expensive. Yes, Mumbai is crowded. Yes, Mumbai is polluted. And right now, rife with diseases. So the reason why I am where I am is just like this city - layered.

You see, cities and towns are a combination of fact and fiction, image and imagination. I have lived three times in this city. Each time, I saw some of it and imagined some of it. My experience was a culmination of both. The real and the felt. The city in its age and time meeting me in my age and time. Each time can be considered a lifetime of sorts. Separate, yet continuous; one leading to the next.

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In my first lifetime, I arrived in the city as a 21-year-old, to pursue my master’s. This wasn't my dream. My dream was to move out of Delhi, a city that had proven to be too hostile for my delicate heart. I also knew very little about Mumbai, which was a good thing to make me take a chance on the city. The two years that I spent here taught me that there are no good or bad decisions. You take a step forward and then you keep taking another. Some steps are easier than others. I didn’t receive college accommodation in the first semester and had to make do with a cot in a dingy working women’s hostel. I don’t know if it was the food, the air or just the overall shock of change that made me sick. I developed a strange condition where the lymph nodes around my neck swelled up. I begged the college authorities to give me hostel accommodation while secretly wondering if that would cure my illness. In the backdrop of this struggle, I discovered myself. I made friends with people from different parts of the country. My brain expanded like never before. And I finally detached from my family, feeling confident that I could survive without their help. But before I could appreciate the win of surviving and liking Bombay, it was time to move on. I found a job in Bangalore and right after graduating, I left Mumbai. However, three years later, Mumbai called out to me again.

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This time, I had more experience living and working and I wasn’t alone. I had a life partner. But I didn't have enough money to afford all our dreams and we found ourselves on the edge of the city, trying to make ends meet. You see, staying here as a student and as a non-student are different states of being. Bangalore had spoilt me with easy weather and balcony-ed houses. Here, the perfect combination of a spacious house, affordable rent, and proximity to the workplace only existed for a few. As we navigated priorities and limitations to settle in on a place we could call home, I found myself preparing to welcome our daughter. And again, Mumbai was neither easy nor hard on me. The doctors were good, but the hospitals were very expensive. Work travel took a toll on my health and I quit my job and went to my hometown to have the baby. I came back three months after delivery to realize that we could no longer afford this city with a new family member and just one of us earning. And so, we moved to Pune.

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Seven years later, I came back to Mumbai. This time, I am living within the Mumbai city limits. The house has more space and I can dry my clothes outside. I have someone to help me with the cleaning. I can afford a cab rather than settle for a train ride. I have also grown older. I stay in more than I go out. My immune system is weaker and I find myself very finicky about things that didn’t matter earlier. I have friends but we don't meet so often. I make an effort to be grateful - for the doctors. For the amenities. For the anonymity. For the relative safety.

With each age, the city has felt different to me. The city has shape-shifted to provide me with varying challenges and benefits. Yet, the reason why I always come back to it is neither the good nor the bad. It is just one fact - here, I am Parool. Just Parool. I don't have roots here. I don't have relatives here. The history I have with this city is mine and mine alone. And so the only baggage I carry is the one I have collected. I don't own anything here, except for the memories I made. The city fulfills my wild desire for the unexpected. You never know how your day will begin or end but begin and end it does and it leaves you with a story worth writing at the end of it.

It is the perfect city for people like me who have never truly felt at home anywhere. People who move through life, trying to find themselves, conflicts providing the mirror they need to see their souls reflected in. How else do you know who you are? No, I don’t think you can know yourself at home.

It isn't an easy life. It isn't a settled life. It isn't a predictable life. But it is a life that reveals a lot. The city helps me know myself better. I cannot say that about any other place, yet.

Photo by Milin John on Unsplash

So, I don't know if this could ever be home. But this is where I am today. And sitting here, I miss the open windows and the cool, dustless, silent breeze of my hometown. Maybe this is what Mumbai is for - to help me value that which it isn't. That which is far away. That which is kept safe and untouched in my imagination, as I choose to walk through life, in this crazy city. Time and time again.