The last couple of months (actually more) have been so terrible [as perceived by yours truly, until Monday] that I wanted nothing better than to leave. Chuck all this and take the easier route out. Interview happened; got the job; things almost fell in place. I was all set to return home. Then I got cold feet. Twako finished it with a most bleak picture of how bad life would be back in Baroda for me.
It made me think of all the things that I’ve yet to have enough of, or can never get enough of.
Oh the sea! Every time I still stroll or brisk-walk by Marine Drive, Frank Sinatra’s Somewhere Beyond the Sea always begins to play in the background. I’m sure I’ve said this before, but the sea always brings back memories of the tune when Uttarika played it on her laptop in hostel.
The place I had my first glass of Sula’s Chenin Blanc. The old Irani café to which Sunil introduced me. The 1926 sepia yellow-n-wood interiors brought alive by shimmering chandeliers and the owner’s pudgy dog. The oldest, safest, most elegant and enchanting pub in Fort. Sports Bar is the only other place I’d ever be found having दारु in Bombay outside the confines of home.
Confession: Bombay turned me into a shopaholic. Hill road at Bandra for western formals, Colaba for bohemian casuals and silver nose studs, Lifestyle at Phoenix for Ginger tee-shirts, Vaman Hari Pethe for my next piece of gold, Crawford market for fruit and Baby-ware, Breach Candy and Warden road for crazy cheap classy party footwear (I found my first pair of heels here)…
Where else would I get to plan a concert-outing by lunch for evening the same day? It’d take Baroda ages to warm up to the idea of an SOI concert. And where would it get the stairs of the Asiatic Library to sit on and listen to Ustad Rashid Khan one dry spell evening between the showers of July?
I don’t mind the कीचड़ in monsoons near Vile Parle Station, I don’t mind the इधर-खुदा-है-उधर-खुदा-है situation in Wadala, but the dust back home gives me a bad allergy-cold in just half a day.
The As and the Ns
I can’t believe both the Abhisheks and Nishants I’m closest to are in Bombay. But other than them too, there’s Allan, Appy and, Neel & Nidhi, and B for Bindia, C for Chintan, and P for Parag too to keep me sane (or insanely amused). And it’s a great excuse to get T for Twara to travel out! Life without them is out’a question. At least for now.
The only place I know that’d give me interesting salad back home is home. And I’ve begun to enjoy iceberg lettuce in lemon & olive oil dressing with iced tea…