Before I began penning this blog, I started with one that was solely meant for the broken hearted. But that didn't last too long. I used to think I felt the pain that many had suffered and that I had suffered often, but splits, I figured, were just as part-of-life as cell phones and Tantra tee shirts. The calendar ran its course and time worked its magic. However, it was the rush as well as a positive serenity of the old world slumped into the new in the magic that is Bombay, that does not let you wallow in your misery for a day longer than is absolutely necessary.
Ever since I stepped into the city, I've had days that seemed ruinous, almost deadening, making me want to pack up and leave even. The one thing that has held me is the people. Unlike what I perceived initially, it is indeed the people who maketh this city, like any other, considering the cuisine isn't anything distinct and the weather is like a longish March-to-May.
These humans, the special kinds called Bambaiyyas command the pace, the air, the current, the mood of the city. You can have just lost a prestigious poetry contest and yet scream with delight over the phone to a few close friends just because you met the most amazing set of people- smiling, winking, huggable, relatable.
In a conversation with Aditya yesterday, I was told, "Your display picture reminds me of the old you. The you I knew." How, I ask, how can a city considered so ruthless, demanding, swift-to-move-on be such a healing force?