Amchi Mumbai

There was one thing that Shiv Sena did which I approve.No it is not beating up hapless bhayyas. I support their decision to rename Bombay, in spite of how some people grumble.

“Bombay” pronounced in the “propah” way sounds like some burra sahib suffering from chronic colitis (for that matter much of English sounds like this, may be English do suffer from chronic colitis, that could explain their morals).
“Bambai”, the Hindi way sounded like watered down scotch (I haven’t had scotch, watered or neat, but I have been assured by the authorities that, diluted scotch is a blasphemy to noble name of Bacchus), or some metro sexual tweezing his eyebrows or worse reading Bacchi Karkaria article.

However Mumbai has a pleasant sound. It is an unpretentious, down to earth, wholesome and honest Indian name. It reminds you of Boomla (who is a Parsi), it reminds you of Hitesh, and it reminds you of all the sweet sweat and dirt of the city that never sleeps or weeps.

Mumbai to me, for some reason seems appropriate name for a city in which though I lived only for less than two years but fell in with (bitter sweet) love. I can’t love the city the way I love Lucknow, because Mumbai doesn’t admit of mushy romance, her love is kind of tough love. It has no place for weak kneed. To even live in Mumbai, one has to exchange most of the dreams for some cynicism. Degrees may differ but everyone from a laborer to a modest clerk to filthy rich has to learn his lesson. Mumbai cuts no slack for those who are not up to it. The city is a testimony of countless disillusioned poets and bitter poems. Yet the cynicism of city is not morbid, it has vigor. It comes not from decadence of some corpulent cesspool of greed, but from wariness of the man aware of the everyday traps, some innocuous other dangerous. The average resident tempered by his mistress faces the life day by day, getting his way, losing his way, in celebration, in shame and ends up loving the city, like couple married for a lifetime do.

People measure Mumbai by GDP or such statistical jugglery, I say this is bollocks.
Mumbai for long has been the last refuge of dispossessed and starving, the beacon of hope for those who have not conceded anything. This dwelling of cynics is an invitation to those who insist on having their way. Mumbai has always been the city of enterprise and resilience and will remain so.

I may end up living in Delhi, in time I may learn to appreciate it. But I think that I will always be scared of Delhi, because it is a city intoxicated on power and intrigue. Delhi is full time devoted to discussions of “who knows who”.
Mumbai notwithstanding the page three types remains a city of hardworking and stubborn people.

In coming decades any of the growing cities, Bangalore, Hyderabad or Chennai may well be known as pride of India, but let us not forget Mumbai. For Mumbai was the place where the India took last stand against creeping socialism. She refused to give any quarters to sappy altruism and remained selfish in a way totally unbecoming to ladies.

I don’t want her to be Shanghai, I don’t want her to be Singapore. I like the way she is. She may be a bitch at times, but she is my kind of bitch.

(Not to mention that in Mumbai I met Aishwarya Rai’s father, my only brush with celebrities.)