A Week in Mumbai, Erstwhile Known as Bombay

Our trip to Bombay was long planned. Personally, it was supposed to be a three-day trip to the inaugural Indian edition of the Lollapalooza music festival, happening over 28th and 29th of January, 2023. Several of my friends and I planned to attend this event way back - around end of July, 2022. I was pretty unaware of the things that would unfurl, altering the dimensions and scope of the life I was living.

Soon enough, the weekend trip was fleshed out into a week-long trip. And no one was happier than I was. Mumbai was on the bucket list, for a while now. And I wanted to be there; I wanted to explore the city very bad. The city is a melting pot of so many cultures, races, ethnicities, peoples. Historically significant, one of the most important port cities of our country, the city has tolerated a lot, it has endured a lot. It has burned, it has been flooded, but every time, the city has risen from its ashes, from the cesspool of death and losses, and has reclaimed its place as the economic stronghold of the country. It is still the city where dreams change into reality, it is still a space where your ambitions can grow from sky to sky. The tinsel town of glamour that grows and grows on the skeletons of poverty and misery. The city of Bombay that we saw and knew from Mr. & Mrs. 55, C.I.D, Bombai Ka Babu, Mr. X in Bombay, to the Mumbai that repulsed many in Slumdog Millionaire and the Mumbai that won every underdog's heart in Gully Boy.

Apna time aa gaya, cause I was about to find myself in a city where the differences between dreams and realities are blurred, at best. And I was the happiest, knowing I would bear witness to it all. The best part was having my best friends along with me.

However, life in Kolkata didn't stop, and before long, it was Pujo. And if you've read my last blogs, you know what happened during last Pujo. It was after Pujo when things got serious, I realised, I would be in Mumbai for Srijani's birthday. It was her first birthday with me, and I did not want to miss it. And at that point my flight to Mumbai was booked, and so were the concert tickets (which we got early birds). I was crestfallen, but you know, sometimes things have this tendency of working out on their own. Srijani's HQ is in Mumbai, she can easily score a few off days, and voila. She's tagging along to Mumbai! How destiny humbles a man!

A typical Mumbai-yatra must begin by paying homage to the gods of the city. Like, it is said, you pray at the Kaal Bhairav temple and ask for His permission to enter Kashi, before you a step foot inside of Varanasi. Some follow the same ritual for Kalighat in Kolkata. Keeping to the tradition, our Mumbai journey begun by paying homage to the living and breathing God of Indian Cinema residing at Bandra Bandstand, worshipped across caste, creed, religion and generations - we all flung to Shah Rukh's Mannat, late at night around 2:40 in the morning. After a quick detour at Salman Khan's Galaxy, we experienced the thrill of Mumbai's auto-rickshaw rides, as our three-wheeled wonder zoomed past flurries of Mercedes, Audis and BMWs.

Mumbai doesn't slumber, even when it is asleep, it is cautious. When we use the words hustle and bustle, I think it fits too well with the sensibility of this crazy city. People pouring in everywhere. Whether it is the suburban local railway station at Andheri, or the monumental Chatrapati Sivaji Maharaj Terminus during the peak office hours of the day, or whether it is the Gateway of India compound on a weekday evening, people in Mumbai, it seems, are all about quenching their thirst for life.

Be it in the dilapidated interiors of Brittania and Co. or the neatly tucked away Jimmy Boy, you'll find retired and aged Parsees huddled together over some Kheema Pav and Salli Boti, discussing life. Perhaps, a life that has wheezed past them in a jiffy. I would often try to eavesdrop on these "local" conversations, trying to fathom the pulse of this metropolis - hardly to any avail. Dejected, I'd chug a bit more of Pallonji's raspberry soda (an acquired taste for some, mind you).

As we walked along the streets of Fort and Colaba, we could hardly distinguish between the old and the new that the city had to offer. Too much juxtaposition of the old and new. A little bit of new coveted by a little bit of the old. How caring are these old dingy spaces, making space for the new - I would woinder, crunching on another famous Bombay cream roll.

Maybe it is the urban breeze of Marine Drive, which is a breeze like no other sea breeze, which allowed me to endear Bombay so much. (Can I please call it Bombay, without this feeling of guilt? My colonial hangover is loathsome, I am aware, but please pardon me, purists.) I have never been particularly wry towards Pani Puri, or Vada Pavs, like some provincialists. But, after this visit to Bombay, I actively endorse them. And I endorse every Mumbaikar, who has extended a hand of friendship, hospitality and kindness. Like the waiter at Noor Mohammadi Restaurant, who knew I had too much of the delectable Sanju Baba Chicken, the Nihari and White Biryani to down even a spoonfull of Rabri. He was kind enough to point me to a paan tapri, which soothed this troubled-yet-satisfied soul (and the bloated tummy).

Or maybe it is the spiritual grandeur that I expected Bombay to be decorated with. The poise of Siddhivinayak Shrine, or the chaotic goodness at Haji Ali, I think both these spaces embody the spirit of this gargantuan city: always moving forward. Like their criss-crossing railway, like their industrious chawls of Dharavi, like the narrow alleys of Byculla pulsating with the joy of life. Like the quaint residences of Andheri aspiring for a better life, like the kaali-peeli taxi meters blinking red, like the waves crashing on the boulders overlooking the Queen's necklace, like millions of people walking the over bridges at Dadar Railway station. Millions of dreams trying to reach somewhere. Millions of dreams, some realised, some still struggling, but always moving forward.

What a city. What a week.

What about the concert, you ask? Again, an experience of a lifetime. But it wouldn't be possible if it was not Bombay that hosted this imposing event. two days of fun, vigour, laughter, dancing and walking, watching our very favourite artists in front of our eyes. Imagine Dragons, Cigarettes After Sex, Greta Van Fleet, DIVINE.

We celebrated Srijani's birthday in our hotel. What mattered to me is that we could spend the day together, among festivities. It was an important day for her. So it was an important day for me. Being in Bombay, at Lollapalooza, on her birthday, made it even more special for her (and in extension me). I think she knows me a little better after this week we spent together. I hope the person she knows a bit more now, is a person of her liking. Fingers crossed.

On our last day in Mumbai, we caught the Van Gogh 360 show in South Bombay, at the Trade Centre. An immersive experience of Van Gogh's art. Mesmerizing and life-altering, it reminded me once more, why I chose art every time in my life. It reminded me what a gifted individual Van Gogh was, and how he brought the best of the world out on his canvas despite his troubled mind. Only to imagine what he could do and achieve if he was not hindered by mental illness.

I was so busy inhaling and absorbing everything around me through this week that I hardly took any photos. I'll leave you all with a few that I managed to click. Pardon the amateur nature of these picture.