Finding the Oasis
It is
a bright and sparkling, sunny day here. Too bright to venture out, I prefer the
shadowy solitude of my indoor sanctum.
But
sun and Saturday take me back, years ago, when the mind was desperate for just
the opposite.
Mumbai,
May 2011 – the exasperated me had just landed in Mumbai to join work after my
MBA. And the combinations couldn’t get any worse – chaos in life, a congested
city to work (I always wanted to go back to my beloved Calcutta) and worse
still, a job in the financial services sector!
After
my internship in a bank the year earlier, also in Mumbai, I had decided banking
in Bombay was just not for me. And yet, when you seem to have antagonized life,
you end up in a city you detest, with a job you abhor. On that first day, it
was difficult to fathom which was worse
The
truth was, I felt stuck.
In a
city where the decibel levels never fell.
Where
people’s footfall was not discriminated by time of day.
And
worst of all, where there was nowhere to run to.
That
Saturday morning, inside my 4 star hotel room (that my company had provided as
temporary accommodation), the curtains were drawn and the room was shamelessly
illuminated by an amber lamp instead of the morning sun. And I – I felt like
crying. ‘Where do I run?’ I asked myself
I had
no relatives, family or friends in Mumbai. My college friends were posted in
other cities, or were yet to arrive….except for Prashant. And in that
instant, there was firefly blip on a pitch black night. I immediately got my
phone out and called him. My joys knew no bounds when he took my call and I
heard something familiar in an otherwise forsaken city.
I
blurted very honestly and unabashedly, Prashant, ‘I am feeling horrible. I hate
to be here….’
Now
Prashant is one of those people whose calmness in infinite, with that infinity
capable of absorbing any amount of worldly agitation. And it worked wonders
that day.
After
I had complained about almost every aspect of the universe – from the temple
bells tinkling too early in the morning, to the severely congested Dadar station
nearby, to the sambar in the morning breakfast being too sweet, to my
room curtains being too purple, Prashant quietly responded, ‘It is a bright and
sunny Saturday, Ayan – why don’t you just come out of your hotel for lunch near
my place?’
I
grasped at the opportunity with both hands. An hour later, I was at Saki Naka,
waiting for lunch at 10:30 am, waiting for Prashant, and of course, waiting for
the restaurant to open. And complaining to myself how there were hardly
any people in the mall…
When Prashant
finally came, I went off again, how everything was so unbearable. My friend
stood with his bag of infinity and heard everything, then just replied, ‘Let’s
try the kulcha and the Peshawari chicken – they are amazing!’
I was
amazed how this person could have so much inertia of rest in a world that flew
at lightning speed. But I gave our discussion a break and focused on lunch. And
in that moment of focus, the world started changing, bit by bit, morsel by
morsel. The chicken was as spectacular as Prashant promised and instead of
talking of our – rather, my problems, he just focused on the meal – how it his
favorite joint, how he prevented going there every day to ensure the charm
didn’t fade, and how tastefully was the meat seared.
After
lunch, we went for a sweet paan, when Prashant spoke. ‘It will take
time, Ayan – things don’t change overnight. You will need time to explore the
good parts of this place, the parts that fit with your life, just as you have
to give up a part of yourself for the city to accept you…
Nothing
happens overnight, and maybe, it is better that way…And believe me, if the day
ever comes when you will have to leave this place, you will feel sad, because
when you have stayed at a place, no matter how bad, you end up giving up a part
of yourself.
And
years later, miles away, when you look back, you yearn for that little bit of
yourself that you had left behind, that became a part of the city…and which
allowed the city to become a part of you…’
Years
have passed, and I have truly, and sadly, moved miles away. But I will always
look back on that day when the immature me needed a vaccination for hope, and
found a cure in the wise and prescient words of my friend.
Looking
back, joining the dots, you might ask, was Prashant right? Yes, he was, in
every single thing he said, and beyond.
It
took time to understand the spirit of the city, just as it took a bit of effort
to integrate therein.
It
took time to get accustomed to so many people, just as it felt homely and safe
to have people all around you, even at a 1:30 am local train.
It
took time to get used to the decibel levels, just as it became fun to hear the
community roar with energy on Janmashtami.
It
took time to understand the multicultural genes of the city, just as it was a
delight to gorge kebabs during Eid at Md. Ali Street, or feast
on modaks at Lalbagh.
It
took efforts to cross the dirty mudflats of Sewri, just to see a pink sea of
flamingoes, right in the heart of the city.
The
few years I spent in Mumbai were a mosaic of memories, worthy ones, and when I
left the city some years later, the first day came back to me vividly. And I
recollected some intensely wise words to sum up my learning from that first
day…That, in order to prevent a drop of water from ever drying up, it perhaps needs
to be thrown into the ocean…
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