As a school going kid, one essay that I remember writing was
‘My neighbours.’ Although there was nothing truthful about that essay (and it
wasn’t even ‘original) as I brought in flavours of nationalism to it. In the
essay (if I remember correctly), my neighbors was a Southie who spoke too much,
a Northie who ate too much, an Eastie and a Westie who am sure did something too
which I don’t recollect.
This post may sound jingoistic, but then just couldn’t help
but notice the diverse nature of India while on my way to office in the local
train, bringing back memories of that not-so-original essay that I’d written about
a decade and a half back!
Sitting next to me was a Sardarji with a pagadi and two
smart-phones, checking out all the news and events in the news websites on both
the phones.
In front of me, towards the right was a gentleman with a
skull cap and a smart kurta-pyjama, also checking out his phone!
Facing me was a guy who had the last traces of paan in his
mouth with his eyes closed reciting some mantras (I guess!).
And me, a Christian, saying a
word of prayer, as the train reached close to my destination – renamed (around
the time I wrote the essay) after a famous Maratha King from a famous English
Queen!
That’s Mumbai. That’s India. At the end of the day, it’s all
about existence (read co-existence) and earning one’s bread. Not about any
nonsense like ‘spirit of Mumbai.’
