HERE OR THERE??

Mumbai…a city of largess, throngs, rains, chowpatties and….. well….. other things too….

I am a hybrid, born in Pune, lived my life in Delhi, took my first job in Ahmedabad and now pursuing my career aspirations in this city of dreams ‘Mumbai’.
Natural, so it may be, Mumbai is a lovely city….people are sweet…. Women are not looked as ‘objects’…..there is a certain freedom (attributed also, to the lavish nightlife available) that makes it a hub for entertainment, revelry, career growth, et al…

Given this backdrop, my only dilemma is why Mumbai-walas are so much in love with Mumbai that they criticize Delhi? I agree that the Delhi-Mumbai tiff will continue, as has been continuing from the past and will take enormous heights, courtesy our fourth estate!

I have always heard more criticism about Delhi than praise for Mumbai!!! Can I start? The crowds and chaos of Mumbai can bewilder even the savviest of travelers (by 2015, this is projected to be the world's most populous city), but I agree that when you settle into its rhythms and you'll soon be won over. Mumbai is at its most contradictory: aggressively modern, yet in parts verging on medieval; glamorous, yet rough-edged; dazzlingly cosmopolitan, yet quintessentially Indian (or should I say Marathi).

The railways are fast (the only viable means of transport) but really pathetic. We get smashed up in the jam packed trains and sometimes even have to hang out of the train to travel. There are water problems quite often. Whereas Mumbai is the largest taxpayer in the country (but gets back a fraction of that by the Central government), and is one of India’s biggest cosmopolitans, Delhi wins hands down as far as infrastructure is concerned. Anyone can live in Delhi, but not everyone is able to live in Mumbai. Mumbai is fun, exciting, challenging but you need guts to live in Mumbai.

I love Delhi, so I see Her through the parallax of love. I’m not blind to Her faults, and I know that she be the most frustrating city in the whole world of my experience. Most Dilliwalas will tell you that they say, at least once every day, “God, I hate this city!” But the same people, me included, will also tell you that at least once every day they say out loud, even if only to themselves, “God, I love this city!” She is beautiful, proud, dangerous, charismatic, and compassionate.

Some friends, and distant relatives barge me, “Delhi locals are bad….they are not good people” without even realizing that their finger points to me, for I have been a Delhi local for 22 years of my life…and will stay all through my life…..

Others comment, “Delhi is not safe…more so for girls.” Agreed, to some extent but that doesn’t mean rapes, or eve-teasing doesn’t happen in this mortal place. Media hypes up such events, Delhi being the national capital. My only question is, do these people even care to turn to page 2/3 of any Mumbai newspaper and read about the ghastly incidents that happen in their own city? I guess not….

Yes, these are perceptions, which I believe, are better kept to oneself than deliberated openly. Delhi does not have moral brigades rampaging a Valentine’s Day party nor do you get extortion calls!! Without debate, I have been disappointed by Mumbaikars’ remarks. I sob and weep over these comments, they prick me, hurt me, and even as I am writing, my eyes have welled, but I bear all the pain for my future lies in this city and after all..Dilli wale chahe jaise bhi ho, dilliwalon ka dil bada hai…. So is life!

P.S. There is no intention to hurt the sentiments of any Mumbaikar. If taken otherwise, it will wholly be at the reader’s risk.

Those days.... Thoughts on a synagogue

A letter by my dear 'akhot' Ranjana....thoughts to be shared with many, felt by few....worth cherishing...Thanks Ranjana...Miss those days....

I remember being confused.

I remember holding Shulamith's palm in my hand as I stepped into Judah Hyam Synagogue, fresh from watching Mr. and Mrs. Iyer. Fresh also, from remembering The Pianist.

And fresh from hearing encores of the Ha Tikavh in my head. In my voice. All the time. And fresh from some (often critiqued) Tagorean ideas on Bramhism, the practice of No God.

Yes, I do remember being confused.

Can one see how many religions had just collided and collapsed and phoenixed inside my head as I stepped into Judah Hyam Synagogue?

I shall not describe what it looks like, because I only know what it looks like to me. I remember its star, the dark hall and the sounds of Ose Shalom. I remember sprinkling toffees on a newly blessed Jewish-Sikh couple. I remember intense personal debates, emotional conversations with a dear friend, sitting on the dark steps of the library. I remember being able to step inside the interiors to meet darling people. I remember the sunset colored Friday evenings where the sunset used to spread inside of me.

And then confusion. Desperation. Who was I? Where was I? Someone asked me if I believed in God.

I realized much later that I did believe in God, but not really in what we take to be religion.

Judah Hyam Synagogue let me be. Often it became the geography that allowed me to suspend other geographies of other struggles and gave me the space (physiographical and emotional) to not try to be anyone.

Or maybe… to learn to be someone.

MAJANI LIFE.....

My mind was wrought with skepticism and contemplations.....It's so very natural for someone leaving for another town to pursue her career. So, here I was in Ahmedabad, coming to a city in Gujarat from 'Oh-the-beautiful-capital' Delhi. They call Ahmedabad The Walled City, throwing me into surreal realms of Jerusalem, but when I entered the city, I didn't see walls but traffic criss-crossing my auto rickshaw from all angles possible. My journey from the railway station wasn't really pleasant, perhaps because the moment we (dad accompanied me) reached Ellisbridge we witnessed a terrible accident. Phew! What a welcome!

But initial experiences cannot be generalized. I love this city, with all its flaws, the traffic jams at Ashram road , fanatic Rath yatras on Ram Navami, the crowded Manik chowk, pirated CD's sold on hand-pulled carts, or the extensive use of the word 'chokas' (meaning definitely)

One may wonder why I loved the city when the grandeur of Delhi should have pulled me back to my so -called human existence! Perhaps, I know why I love the city, it is a secret I'm bound to. There's a magic in the city, which I'm clueless about, which reaffirms my belief in myself. Maybe I cannot delve too much into this magic, for if I do, the mere essence is lost, the flavor is irrecoverable. It should remain unknown, for the unknown Is indeed MAGICAL....