My Mumbai

Can't take it anymore. Blogging aimlessly to vent out ones anger is the stupidest thing to do. Easy for me to say time to act...but what the hell am I going to do? for the matter what can be done? Not a single case of terrorist attack in this country has reached a logical conclusion. stuck. stuck. stuck. Minority appeasement, majority's prejudices, nepotism, legal loopholes, corruption, red tape, govt. files, files, files, files and even as I write more files are piling on someone's desk.

Taj, Oberoi, VT...man these are not landmarks; they are a part of my consciousness. I have lost count of the number of times my legs have dragged me automatically to VT or Churchgate, just because I was bored, confused, frustrated and contemplating enlightenment or blowing up myself sitting at home. Marine Drive, DN Road...these places have given me answers for questions which I never asked. They can't burn. I might need those answers again. Maybe not, but they simply can't burn. MY MUMBAI CAN'T BURN.

I am one of the proudest Mumbaikars one might bump into. It's my identity. I have lost my sense of security long back...yet the love for this city runs in my body. Its dark red.

Let them hit hard…

On our faces they spat
We wiped them
But the stain still speaks
Maybe…it has sensed their defeat

Let them hit hard

They broke our dignity…our dreams
But they want more….thats what it seems
Blinded by power they march
Not knowing…they haven’t yet broken our will

Now our tear drops have died
But the salt still flows...
Brushing our wounds…
Flaming our ego
Just one more wound to go

Let them hit hard
And fear they will know

Sunny side up

Calling me stupid would be an understatement. Now read on…

Was a tad late for office and hurried inside the lift. Waited for people to trickle in leaning against the wall. My destination - floor number 10. Time for take off. Glanced at the wall. At the liftman’s khaki uniform. The indicator showed first floor. Saw Sunil Gavaskar on my right. Saw the liftman. Wait a minute…did I say Gavaskar?…Turn right again…Yes, its him…I was transported to Lords…no no Kingston…bah leave it. Ok what next?...Lift stops at some floor….and hes still there…standing next to me…I noticed his height…very few cricketers whom I could look eye to eye …but what do I ask?... “Mr. Gavaskar how does it feel to have a Calypso composed on you? Who was better…Joel Garner or Sylvester Clarke…well did u ever face Clarke? or was it Marshhhhhhh”…

“Congrats…we won the series” said an old man to Sunny…He said “O yes”... Now again my mind started racing….think shld ask him why he goes overboard about Sachin during matches?…no no was thinking something else…Patterson…no Clarke…and then it slipped…

“Sir, are you going to Radio One?”
“No”, he said…his face tilting 2 degrees to his left…and then he was gone. Floor number 6 the indicator said.

“Arey yahan unka office hai”. It was Pandey the liftman. As I got out, I just thought…calling me stupid would be an understatement.