From a small town to a big city

When I moved to Mumbai, many years ago, I was, I am sure, quite innocent and gullible. I received a lot of tips from relatives and friends.

“Don’t travel by local trains as there is the danger of bomb blasts”.

“Do not travel by bus, as Mumbai men can be quite rowdy. (I just ignored this as after Kolkata, were standing up and fighting with men trying to brush against them is a daily affair, managing men while traveling would be simple!)

“Don’t drink water outside home. Jaundice in rampant there.”

“Do not travel in taxis. Did you hear of a story where was white skinned foreigner was strangled in one two years back at midnight?” (I ignored this again as I look nothing like a foreigner. I like to call myself a BDAP (big, dark and almost pretty) woman. No taxi driver would like to mess with me!)

Ready with a bundle of medicines (to tackle any of the virus/bacteria this city is assumed to be laden with), I landed at Victoria Terminus, as it was called then. I hailed a cab once I stepped out of the station. I stood in a taxi queue for 30 minutes and got into one finally.  “Where to, bai?” asked the driver. “Marine drive”, I mentioned. “Why did you take this taxi” asked the driver. “What do you mean” I asked. “I have been standing to get a long-distance passenger for the past 3 hours and then you get in and ask to go to Marine drive, which is just 15 minutes from here?” the driver said and he stopped the taxi outside the station. “Why didn’t you say so that you will not travel short distance”, I asked him, tensely. It was 7.00 p.m. and I was in a new city, already getting into an argument with a taxi driver. This is the time when good girls return home in Kolkata! But I looked from the taxi window and realized that it was still daylight. The norm in Kolkata was that good girls were to be home before dusk, before street lights came on. This analysis to myself reduced my tension and turned back to the driver. I have time to fight. “How can you drop me midway after I have spent 30 minutes waiting in a queue? Come to the police station” I retorted. “Sorry, bai”, carburetor needs tuning and has stopped working”, he said. “It was working so far, how can it stop suddenly”, I asked. “These things happen sometimes in life. One has to just accept it and get on ahead with life. Please get down unless you want to spend two and a half hours in the taxi”, he said, unsmiling. I fumed and got down with my luggage and started walking towards the  bus stand nearby. I heard a buzz behind me and realized the taxi with the “untuned carburetor” was actually fine and the driver had duped me and left me stranded. I mentally made a note of the taxi number and walked to the bus stop.

“Jhcheeek, jhcheeek”, I heard behind me, while waiting for the bus. There was a young man standing behind me and making this funny sound. I glared at him and he said “give way, madam, me going ahead”. I moved aside and let him pass. The bus cam and I got in and got a seat to sit. “Jhcheeek, jhcheeek”, someone said behind me. I was not in a mood to be “jhcheeek-ed”.  I turned around and was ready to slap the person behind me, when I realized that it was the ticket collector. He glared at me and said “jhcheeek, jhcheeek”. I glared back and said “WHAT”. He said, “what do you think, I would ask you for? Do you want a ticket or not? I mumbled and told him “Marine drive” and gave him the required money and bought the ticket. The guy moved ahead and made the same sound. The lady in front, instead of slapping him or screaming at him, just gave him the money and the process continued. It suddenly dawned in me that in Mumbai, “jhcheeek, jhcheeek” was a way of addressing or drawing attention of a person of any sex! This did not make me feel any better, ofcourse. I got down at the bus stop and walked to the building were I was supposed to stay as a paying guest.

“Mrs. D’souza? Ah..I am Aanya from Kolkata. My father had spoken with you and booked a room for me?, I fumbled. Mrs. D’souza looked me up and down and said “Your father said you were 23 years”. He should have told me your right age. I have different rooms for 30+ women”. I went red in face (actually, with my complexion, I think I turned purple) and said indignantly “I am 23 and 2 months”. You want to see my school leaving certificate”? “Naah”, certificates can be forged now-a-days. Anyway, I will not make any changes now, unless you roomies complain” and opened the door wide to let me in.

Married to an audiophile

It was a lazy Sunday morning and it was drizzling outside. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It was just beginning to light up outside and it was 6.30 a.m. It was too early for me to get up, I decided, especially on a Sunday. I looked at Areen snoring next to me. “Maybe I can hug the snores away”, I thought and went close to him and put my hands over him. He snuggled upto me and said “aha” in a rather cute sort of way. It was a good day, I decided, and feeling quite wanted and ran my fingers over his cheeks. He opened his eyes slowly. I thought back on the many movies that I had watched, where the hero opens his eyes slowly (mainly in hospital beds), looks into the eyes of the heroine and…no words could describe the romantic moment.

“Arrhh” screamed Areen as he looked upon me and jumped up. “What happened”, I asked shocked. He didn’t reply but ran out to the drawing room. I followed to check if he was feeling unwell. “Feverish, maybe”, I thought. “He has got malaria”, I thought, worried. Saw him sitting with a piece of paper busily writing something. “It can’t be his will, I thought. Does he think he has some incurable disease and has suddenly decided to write his will?, thought”. “Oh, how much he loves me that he rushes out like this when he thinks life is coming to an end”. I woke up from my reverie. It looked like he was drawing something on the sheet. Wills don’t have drawings, I thought.

I was beginning to feel anger creep into me. “What are you writing”, I asked grimly. No reply. I put my hand on his shoulder. No reaction. I put my hand on the paper and whispered in his ears “What are you doing?”. Oh, he replied innocently. “Did you know that I can use the Linquitz model to build my speakers and Arun has mentioned that he will courier the parts I need from the US. I just thought of how I am going to put this together. See the lines here, this is the input and this wire here, is the output. I will have 10 amps build in, and did I show you the knobs I bought yesterday. Beautiful”.

Yes, I was seeing lines and spots of various colours. Shall I kick him on his butt or slap him on his face? What shall hurt the maximum, I thought. “Hey, are you feeling unwell”, he asked. “You are looking quite blue. Go and lie down sweetie”.