A Whiff of Life

When I first moved to Bombay from Calcutta, the first question most people asked me when they met me was always, “where do you like it better? Bombay or Calcutta?” My answers have been different at different stages. At first I always said, very diplomatically, “I like both!”. Although I feel the honest answer would’ve been that I missed Calcutta, I missed home. Those years, it was still home for me, however awed I was of Bombay, the city that never sleeps. Everything was different in Bombay, the atmosphere, the streets and the people, most importantly. Bombay was the city of the glamorous and the stylish; it was the hot and happening city with Bollywood and all the celebrities. It would’ve been odd and un-cool of me to say I liked Calcutta better. But through the years, my answer changed, and very genuinely too. Bombay soon became home for me. It became home because of the friends I made and also probably because the more time you spend in a city, the more you grow to love it. In the same way, I learned to love Bombay – the life in the city, its laid back nature, the lights, the paani puri, the different kinds of people; and before I knew it, I was a Bombaywala too! Calcutta seemed like a distant memory – it wasn’t home, but it became the city where my grandparents stayed and where I went to spend my holidays. I used to think to myself, “how can people live in Calcutta? It’s such a boring place!” Even my parents agreed that Calcutta had deteriorated, it wasn’t the same place anymore. Each city has its attractions I think, its own charm and I don’t think that can ever fade or deteriorate. It’s this charm that sets every city apart from each other. Calcutta has its own feel. The rickshaws, the rasgullas, the people fighting, the morchas on the streets, the yellow ambassador taxis, the dirty mini buses and even the horrible pollution makes it what it is. My teacher once said that Calcutta was the only extremist city in India. That’s probably because they don’t take things lying down, they fight. Only in Calcutta will you see a taxi driver and man driving a car screaming at each other, and soon you’ll see a huge crowd gathered around them also joining the fight; all this in the midst of a traffic jam. They fight because they care. That’s something you don’t see in many cities, especially Bombay. Yes, people are friendly, but indifferent to you in many ways. They don’t care about your life or your problems; they have their own problems to deal with and that’s more than enough for them. I like the fact that Calcutta doesn’t have that many high rises, at least not like the ghastly ones in Bombay. When I went to Calcutta on my last trip, I met one of my old friends. He told me how he goes around with a couple of friends and explores the nooks and corners of the city in his free time. On one of his excursions, in an old, tiny lane he found a famous chai wala whose family has been selling tea for over three generations. It makes me see the difference between the two cities. When I might have been out spending 100 bucks on coffee with my friends, he might have been exploring the city he lives in and drinking a simple tea from a roadside stall. The simplicity moved me. He doesn’t seem to care all that much about having a fancy phone or the latest play station. There’s much more meaning to his life. There’s probably so much more to Bombay than meets the eye, so much more to see. Do I even know Bombay at all? I realize that by becoming a Bombaywala, I’ve just become like one of them, not caring about anyone’s but my own life, not bothered about issues, not bothered about anything. I hate it. It’s nice to care, to be sensitive towards people around you, to keep in touch with friends, be with them through tough spots, help out, maintain relationships that matter, however small and irrelevant they may be, to be nice to people, to make a difference. Isn’t that what life’s about?

After having lived in Bombay for 12 years now, I’ve grown out of being awed by it. Bombay is somehow too busy, too indifferent, too ignorant to care, too worried about their shopping not being done. Everybody’s just running around, living their own lives, with no qualms about not having returned a call or ignored a message. Nobody cares. It’s this “don’t care” attitude that frustrates me. I don’t want to be this person.

People call it the city of the rich. I find that absolutely disgusting. It just shows how blind we can be. The government recently made the sea link, apparently for our convenience. When you’re chilling in your car going over the sea link, guess what the view is? It’s acres and acres of slums before you see the high rises. The government has all the money to build sea links, but non to help the poor? The hypocrisy amazes me. And I actually thought it was the city of the rich and glamorous.

I particularly enjoyed this trip to Calcutta. It was very different from any other trip I’ve made there for some reason I find hard to fathom. I think it was because 2012 was a hard and tough year. It was quite an ordeal. And just being with your family makes you forget the complications, makes you forget the bad times, makes you feel that everything will be fine. It brought back memories of my childhood, of better days in my life. It made me feel that people do really care, and not everything has changed. It reminded me that family would be there, when times are rough and you need help, and when there’s no one else. It made me feel like there’s more to life, more to this world than what meets the eye. I agree with the saying “home is where the heart is”. Only I still don’t know where my heart is. All I know is, you feel at home when people love you and you love them. Home is where people care.