Nothing stops here.
Not even at midnight. Even if you wake up at 6 in the morning, they're all still there. Or maybe they started hours before you sneaked out of bed in lieu of some morning peace. Or loo.
There's always people on the road. The sea-faces are always crowded. The road-side benches and footpaths have permanently turned into temporary homes for a certain class of people. Just the faces change, although no one is bothered enough to look at them. There's always BMWs, Mercs and Audis to look on the other side of the road. These too are ever-present in their un-stationary style.
The roads are dirty, everything smells bad. The air carries heavy dust. And people - they just walk into you. And each other, for that matter. In my last line, I just tried to establish that they have no personal grudge against you, they are all in a hurry. Sorry. Oh wait, there's no sorry. They just walk in any direction they want. If you bump into someone, you might turn an look back expecting a reaction. A kind word - or maybe a flying fist - anything. The actual picture is you won't hear a beep. Unless either of you is pinged on Whatsapp, just in the spur of the moment.
In my last field of action, Pune, people would touch the person's body and pull that arm towards their heart, in a warm gesture if they stepped on anyone's feet. And smiles were an easy commodity. Me too - I was busy charming the world with my ugly smile. In my hometown, Lucknow, if you bang into someone you could get a generic brushing - "Dekh ke nai chal paate ho?" Erm, am I expected to answer that or you are just wondering out loud, while mapping a character-sketch?
This city won't give you nuts. And vice-versa. You could ram into a person and they won't bat an eye. I think I might be tempted to dress up as half-monkey-half-kangaroo and hop in just to check if anyone cares to look at me. In recent days, I had grown a habit of smiling at people, right from the morning. I had communicable motives. Their returns drove me - "Ah! Another one down." This had turned into an addiction. Sigh.
You could expect the ladies to be kind to you in public places, but not in THIS city. Last I checked, I was being kicked and pushed by a few women rushing out of the ladies coach while climbing up the foot-over-bridge in a busy station. This one time, this lady was continuously trying to pushing me up with both her hands. Yes, YES, you are in a hurry. Sorry that I came in your way. Sorry that I even boarded the local train this morning. Sorry that I came to this city. Phew. I turned and put out my words in the atmosphere in a polite yet assertive manner "Dhakka mat dijjiye". Turns out ignorance is a welcome gesture here. This time it was topped with two knees on my behind. People, THAT is what happens when you step on the same step on the stairs as the person ahead of you and try to move faster than them - you kick them on the behind. Free information. Surprise. Hah, but do you care?
Local trains - there is always some guy digging their nose into your armpits as you try to cling to the top. And sir, did you check the humidity percentage in the newspaper this morning? When you turn around for decency's sake, that muchchhi-man in front of you just blows a puff, a *PUFF* of moist, smelly air right into your face. Right INTO your face. Oh dear lord!
Ye humse na ho payega.
In the last couple of weeks I have met three people who have claimed that they have seen me. Somewhere. To one, I was my shy-self. One other, I tried to convince that I was the star of the movie Taare Zameen Par. Damn, fell straight on my face and hit my nosy on the pavement brick! He said, "Na na - tu wo hero ka friend hai na.. Safari ka.. jo class mein first aata hai! Aap abhi bhi acting karte ho?" To that, I raise my eyebrows and think to myself - din bhar. The third one I clearly stated that it is not possible. I mean, a girl like her simply does not see AND remember ugly boys like me.
As I was initially wondering, do the people of the city ever look at faces? No doubt every random piece of crap looks similar to them.
Recently, I was standing single-framed at Bandra station, staring at the local train network map in the evening, or night as some call it, looking for any place to go but home. A little thing bumped into me a few times. I turned to look, it was a little boy aged 4 or 5 jumping up and down, tossing a 5 rupee coin in the air. That golden one. Barely clad in a torn, used-up school shirt and knickers, he was running around bare feet, trying to catch that prize he would throw up each time. Roughly summarising the purpose-of-life debate for most human counterparts, I thought. Too happy, for the unapproachable God's sake. I couldn't resist. His happiness was running viral into my veins.
I finally found some one to speak to in this over-crowded, yet solitary city. I taunted, "Kyun phek raha hai, roti nai khaega kya?", in a friendly tone. He said, "Phek nai raha hoon, khel raha hoon.." Ya ya, I lack social skills to start conversations. Pfft. Within a minute of interaction, as if he found an long-lost friend in me, and hid the coin tight in his fist and asked me to choose. Out of the two words he mentioned in "some" languange, I could only catch "sar". It obviously was a challenge to choose heads or tails. I voted for the sar. Huh, I won. I knew that only because he told me. Then he went, "arree nahiiii, fir se". I went for sar again. Like I even knew the other option.
He curiously opened his fist and started jumping in the moment of ecstasy. I had lost. He had won this time. His grin! Totally worth it.
That was one happy night. Not having seen a familiar face for so long, the happiest that they have gone so far. But now, I think of him, and I think to myself - I'll manage all right.
♫ Ajnabi Sheher Hai
