It was A’s choice to visit Mumbadevi. I , after a marathon tour of Siddhivinayak,Haji Ali, and Mahalakshmi , was now, caught in a jinx. My adventurous and touring self were in a clash ….with the real , more humble persona of me. Ultimately the daring and touring one got the crown and I ceded to A’s request.
B, the third musketeer amongst us, was in mixedbag. A celebrating and undying spirit of his, both were unable to cope up with the majestic gushes of wind and the oily surface of the Haji Ali causeway. He wanted to go home, lie down in the couch, watch some news, light a smoke,I saw those snapshots of wishs in his eyes for two long minutes, but miraculously at the start of the third minute, it all went off, and for reasons unknown, he also gave it in.
The best way to roam around Mumbai ,or as a matter of fact any Indian city which has got a story to tell is, hire a taxi, sit besides the chauffeur and bombard him with your Q and As.
We took a taxi at the crossection of Bhulabhai Desai Road and Pedder Road. I literally jumped towards the front door. My eyes were like the lion’s when the king of the jungle has seen blood on the front seat.At last with some rare reflexes and with raised eyebrows of the driver ,I caught hold of my seat while things happened a bit peacefully behind me as the other two guys sat quietly in the back seat.
Soon we took off towards Peddar Road
Me : ye Peddar Road hai??
Driver : haan sahib.
Suddenly the weather changed, what was something a little more than a rainfall turned to something less than a storm. The wet and naked roads , devoid of commuters , made the Island city a lot more sexier than it normally is when the town is a financial nerve center. The incessant rain was turning the wet ,moist and salty atmosphere into a sensuous one.
Me (turning towards B) : saale ye hai Mumbai..mayanagri.
Driver looked towards me and ended up in a wry smile.
B : abe ye sab angrezon ne banaaya hai kyaa??
Me : haan, kaafi kuch.
The cab turned left bringing with it a view of the grand sea face which eventually made its way to the grandeur of Marine Drive.
Me : Bhayiaa 26/11 ko to yahaan sab sunsaan hoga
Driver : sunsaan kya sahib sab band tha..kuch allowed hii nahi thaa
C : aur train??
D : log hii kahaan the train pakadne k liye….aur frequency bhi kam ho gyi thi…abhi 5 minute me aa jaati hai..un dino aadhe ghante me 1 train aa rhi thi.
Me : matlab office woffice sab band??
Driver (taking a sharp turn thus, taking us away from Marine Drive) : Are kya office seth, lag raha tha jaise kisi doosre desh ne akraman kar diya ho….
Me : Achca ….saaalaaa…
The driver looked at me, intensely and then, smiled again. I would be lying if I’d say that I was not at all amused by that smile. But in the hindsight I can relate a lot more bravery to that smile. For that driver and many others, this city with all its roads and sea faces , was like a mother, and they had seen their mother being brutally beaten ,looted and raped on 26/11 , and on many more occasions, but at all those times, they had fought and brought their mother back to her feet and the city was again running. I recalled ,that what a soldier does for his nation,these drivers had done, many times for this city.
Me : Achchaa bhayiaajii, abhi waale blast bhi to yahiin kahiin hue the??
Driver (pointing his finger to a congested street) Wo baju me wahaan…wo
Me (partly in disbelief and partly in fear) : Achca ..mandir yahiin hai kyaa??....aas paas??
Driver(finally giving the Bumblebee’s engine a little rest): seth yahaan k baad se taxi allowed nahi hai blast k baad se ..wo raha mandir saamne ….
I am a naturally dumb guy. But in that time frame of stepping down from the taxi and getting the first look at Zaveri Bazaar, my mind was filled with a thousand and one thoughts.
“shall I tell my mother….no no no…it wil be terrible thing”, “so finally I am at the terror hot-spot….I will tell this thing to my friends, may be I could write about it”….”what if..what if Bomb has been planted ..its Saturday, so crowded…”….”shit…common….nothing wil happen….are yaar..saali kahin aakhiri yatra na ho”
Above, is the story of my mind in the first 10 minutes of my landing at Zaveri Bazaar. “Kitna sona hai be”…B’s voice came from the backdrop…and so with the jungle of thoughts in my mind , I walked ahead.
Jewelery is everywhere. No other thoughts can come to anybody’s mind when he stands in the middle of this bazaar for the first 5 mins. From hutment to palaces, everything was – if there is any word like that- jewel-phillic. It seemed to be a street of commoners where the ‘aam- aadmi’ toiled hard and gave away his sweat to bring affluence to the rich and famous.
Gold , for them was not what it meant for us. Diamond was not a lady’s best friend. They were pure and were revered. The people and those rare gems had a relationship analogous to that of the pen and the writer.
Finally we reached Mumbadevi, which to put in a more apt manner ,was intense . As if the almighty was meditating deep on the pros and cons of the recent blasts. After all Gods here had seen Mumbai grow , applauding at her achievements and praying at her struggles and hurdles.
It was my turn now, to be in a mixed bag .Nightmares were still hovering over me. And as a topping, in came a dilemma , My wish to roam around Colaba and have a pint there met in a head on collision with the aroma of the jalebi that was being prepared nearby.
Me: abe chalo be Bus pakadte hai…varna milegi nahi??
A: Abe saale jalebi khaa le. Bahut din ho gaye hain be.
B : haan be ..khaa k chalte hain…mauj aa jaaegi.
I lost. We went inside. A peaculiar combo of jalebi and papdi was served. With the very first bite , I was travelling through time. I was back to the days which started at 7 AM and ended at 1 in the noon, when tension was limited to the pending homework , where there were fights , but no hatred , and where there was fear of scolding but no terror.
Handing over the bill to the shopkeeper we walked out of that hotel.. My fear was now turning towards an intriguing curiosity. I was in a place which was one of the most testing place to be in the recent times but all what I had seen and heard were loud laughter, smiling faces and fast paced seths. I was ashamed to be in nightmares again..compared to those dare-devil jewellers, I was a selfish piece of nut.But I could not help it, the thoughts of an imminent blasts were overpowering the jovialness of the Zaveri Bazaar
A: abe raat k khaane kaa kya kare??
Me(dying to go to Colaba) : abe chalo be ..Leopold chalte hain..dekh lenge khaane kaa
A: abe aunty bhii nahi aaeng banane….
“ARE PACK KARNE LAANE KAA NAA”- a passer by remarked , and almost instantaneously started laughing. I could not control myself , gestured towards him, and laughed out.
I and B laughed out for 2 long mins. A had no idea why we were laughing. I looked back at the Bazaar saluted to it, and started to walk towards the bus stand, to head,finally to Colaba.
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