Visitors to this city are almost always in awe of its pace. Its liveliness. Its sheer force of existence. They think this city is something special; I think this city is on the edge.
Much has been said about the overworked transport system. The inevitable delays, the fashionably late Indian Standard Time. About the fighting spirit this city breathes into its people, about the safety its women enjoy.
Some Indians think this city is a lesson in assertion. Spend a few years in big bad Bombay and you will learn to stand on your own two feet. I beg to differ. Spend a while in Bombay and you will learn how to fight someone who tries to stamp your two little feet. If anything, this city is a lesson in survival. Irritable, defensive survival that reeks of sweat and aches with hunger. Take it all away and we won't be us anymore.
We trudge on, for hey, we're lucky to be surviving in Bombay! We overlook the fact that Bombay is the hallowed place we make it out to be because of its faceless crowds and their desperate attempts to fulfil a day's work, not inspite of them.
It is not that Bombay works much more than is normal - Bombay just sees a lot of other stuff that overpowers work. Work happens mechanically, on the side. We're preoccupied; we're pissed. We don't understand that deftly juggling travel alternatives during a strike isn't streetsmart, it's silent acceptance. But you can't blame us for overlooking such stuff. These oversights allow you to romanticise our city. We're just too busy protecting our toes from the crowd.
Our lives have the same issues as yours. The same concerns, the same drama. We just dwell on them differently, secretly but in the midst of the screaming match that is a regular officegoer's travel companion.
It's all too vague for you, isn't it? You must be convinced I'm exaggerating. Others from my city would agree with you. You see, we fret and fume within our minds but we really don't notice these things anymore. We've imbibed the idea of maddening crowds. It's alright for our fancy AC buses to carry 80, not 40. It's okay to spend two hours at that posh counter for some inane work.
We aren't brave. We aren't overachievers. We aren't brokers of dreams and we aren't champions of coexistence. We're just oblivious blocks of flexible minds, regular people caught in a crowd.
Much has been said about the overworked transport system. The inevitable delays, the fashionably late Indian Standard Time. About the fighting spirit this city breathes into its people, about the safety its women enjoy.
Some Indians think this city is a lesson in assertion. Spend a few years in big bad Bombay and you will learn to stand on your own two feet. I beg to differ. Spend a while in Bombay and you will learn how to fight someone who tries to stamp your two little feet. If anything, this city is a lesson in survival. Irritable, defensive survival that reeks of sweat and aches with hunger. Take it all away and we won't be us anymore.
We trudge on, for hey, we're lucky to be surviving in Bombay! We overlook the fact that Bombay is the hallowed place we make it out to be because of its faceless crowds and their desperate attempts to fulfil a day's work, not inspite of them.
It is not that Bombay works much more than is normal - Bombay just sees a lot of other stuff that overpowers work. Work happens mechanically, on the side. We're preoccupied; we're pissed. We don't understand that deftly juggling travel alternatives during a strike isn't streetsmart, it's silent acceptance. But you can't blame us for overlooking such stuff. These oversights allow you to romanticise our city. We're just too busy protecting our toes from the crowd.
Our lives have the same issues as yours. The same concerns, the same drama. We just dwell on them differently, secretly but in the midst of the screaming match that is a regular officegoer's travel companion.
It's all too vague for you, isn't it? You must be convinced I'm exaggerating. Others from my city would agree with you. You see, we fret and fume within our minds but we really don't notice these things anymore. We've imbibed the idea of maddening crowds. It's alright for our fancy AC buses to carry 80, not 40. It's okay to spend two hours at that posh counter for some inane work.
We aren't brave. We aren't overachievers. We aren't brokers of dreams and we aren't champions of coexistence. We're just oblivious blocks of flexible minds, regular people caught in a crowd.
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