Bombay Express

A couple of days ago I was looking through a friend’s college photographs and all of a sudden this big wave of nostalgia came and hit me bang in the middle of my face…college in India is a different experience altogether…not for us are the novelty of spring breaks and Thanksgiving…but just the feeling of being somewhere in between a child and an adult that is indescribable…

I want to go back to the city which never sleeps. I want my biggest problem to be whether to go for my 8 o clock lecture or not. I want to sleep during classes and hit snooze without feeling guilty. I want to be able to drink from 11 in the morning if I want to. I want to go for the 1, 4, 7 & 10 shows of movies because I have nothing better to do. I want to stroll down Colaba causeway and bargain with Malayali vendors for fake sunglasses which I know that I will never buy. I want to sit on Marine Drive the whole night and drink endless cups of chai and watch the sun rise. I want to not have to bargain for cabs and autos ever. I want to go to a pub where I can listen to some really good music. I want to watch amateur theatre and afterwards rip it to shreds and dissect it. I want to fight for the first seat on the top deck of a double decker bus and feel the dusty wind tangle up my hair. I want to feel the panic of not having so much as a text book the day before my final exams. I want to sit on the window ledge of my rented room and stare at the smoggy night sky and daydream. I want to be able to sleep in the afternoons and watch mindless soap operas which seem to be reserved only for that time.

I miss the smells and the noise and the hustle and the incredible energy that surrounds everyday life in Bombay. I miss being able to take off whenever and wherever I want to. I miss vada pav and bhel puri and roadside sandwiches and frankies. I miss ‘Sunlight’ and ‘Gokuls’ and all the shadiest of bars that we used to go and drink in whenever we had no dough. I miss eating in cheap mallu joints where you got the best beef in the world. I miss smoking at the bus stand outside college and the Midday crossword that I used to faithfully do every single day (mainly because it cannot get easier than that). I miss the shoe shops on Kemps Corner and the milkshakes at Haji Ali and the strawberries and cream at Bachelor’s. I miss karaoke at ‘Jazz’ and pickled chicken and spicy pork pizza at Pizzeria. I miss the old buildings of South Bombay – they are so elegantly beautiful. I miss knowing the order of stations from Church Gate to Mulund (Church Gate, Marine Lines, Charni Road, Grant Road, Bombay Central…). I miss the independence that comes with simple things like being able to take a cab alone at one in the morning if needed. I miss the anonymity and the feeling of being lost among the crowds. I miss night shows at ‘Sterling’ and ‘Regal’ and the rolls at Bade Miyan’s after a night at the ‘Ghetto’. I miss knowing that no matter what happens nothing will break down and life will go on. I miss the concerts at Rang Bhavan. I miss sneaking into the hostel to catnap and eating mess food with exotic names like ‘Egg Mauritian’ and ‘Egg Burmese’. I miss wide pavements and wider roads. I miss breakfast at Mondy’s and beer at Leo’s and Starters. I miss not caring what I wore to class and loose jeans and short kurtas and oshos and oversized bags stuffed with nothing. I miss getting drenched in the rains and sitting in cold draughty classrooms and shivering my ass off. I miss Orange and Jahangir Art Gallery and familiar bus routes and Barista and a million other things.

I miss Bombay.