Reading: All We Imagine as Light

Riding the Mumbai storm

Nineteen years later, I still remember the design of those tapered black leather shoes I was wearing. My life depended on those shoes as my toes had to somehow stay put on the footboard of the local train during rush hour. There was not enough space for my heels which stuck out and as did my entire body. My arms were stretched to their limits - my right palm failed to fully clasp the pole in the middle of the doorway while the fingers of my left hand tightly held on to an inch-wide ridge above me.

My legs shook uncontrollably, and my jaws were clenched fearing the worst.

I had realized my blunder and all I wanted was to make it until the next stop. But as the next station approached, there was some passenger movement within the compartment, and I found out that I had neither the strength in my body nor the voice in my throat to push back. I lost my grip and spilt over from the slowing train and fell on the railway platform.

I have blanked out on what happened next. It could be that someone helped me up and offered me some water. What I do remember is that I was wearing a dark blue shirt and grey trousers. And it is likely that I dusted myself off and went for the meeting that I was so desperate to get to.

I don’t recall sharing this with anyone. I wanted to show that I too could ride this storm.

So, I overdid it.

I was new to the city and having no social life suited me just fine. I stayed back at work up to dinner time and worked through most weekends. I had to learn the trade quickly and pay off my student loan soon.

They told us about the achievers – the company men and the company women. ‘You know she comes in 8.30 every day, and he hasn’t taken leave in 6 whole years!’

They were also their favourites. Now who doesn’t want to be a favourite?

On 11 July 2006, seven bombs went off on different trains of the Mumbai suburban rail network during rush hour bringing the city to its knees.

The next morning, I was on the usual train when my father called.

‘What time did you get home last night?’

‘Around 2 o’ clock.’

‘And you’re on the train at 8 already?’

‘The city never stops’, I remember telling him.

In one year, I had recovered from being thrown off the train to becoming the city itself.

They called it the Spirit of Mumbai.

On the same afternoon, I had a meeting with a fashion magazine. The editor got annoyed when she found out that someone from the marketing team had chosen to stay home that day.

‘Just because there was a bomb blast yesterday, what is the reason to take the day off today? Does she think there will be a bomb blast today as well?’

Some people call this the city of dreams

I think it's the city of illusions

*

All three protagonists of the film ‘All We Imagine as Light’ are also trying to ride this storm. Luckily for them, they are at different stages in their lives. The lived wisdom trickles down from Parvati to Prabha to Anu while the spunk of young Anu completes the circle.

Since all my socializing in the city started from my workplace, I ended up in a circle of men of similar ages and working in the same business. I had nursed some hopes on how this might work out for us. We could build something together, I had thought.

But invariably, we ended up bumping into each other at all the wrong places. Like that time, when both my friend and I applied for the same job. What else could I do but wish that only I make it and he does not.

And that other time when we were at a restaurant for my birthday dinner, one of my friends, probably out of professional spite, smashed the whole birthday cake on my head as a part of the celebration.

You might think you know someone

But they can also be strangers

*

Parvati has lived a lifetime in her house but does not have the papers to prove it. Prabha might have a marriage certificate, but her husband has taken up a job abroad and left her behind. Anu has a boyfriend who she is not fully sure of and keeps him hidden from the world.

I’ve come to realize that Bombay is an entirely different city for those who have a home there. The rest of us are standing on the footboard of a speeding train holding on to anything we can grasp at. Which is why we are willing to go to any lengths to keep our jobs and accept companionship of all kinds – even when it is exploitative or abusive.

One time I was at a party with my boss. He saw someone in the crowd and started moving towards them. Without even asking, he held out his glass in my direction. I paused an extra second, but in that moment, I failed to come up with any other response to his gesture. I took the glass from his hand.

I did not want to risk getting elbowed off the wagon.

You have to believe in the illusion

Or else you’ll go mad

Parvati is eating at a restaurant near her home along with Prabha when she shares her surprise. ‘I walk up and down this road all the time, but I had never noticed this restaurant.’

When the three of them arrive at Parvati’s village in coastal Maharashtra, they can’t seem to get enough of the beach – wading in with caution at first, and then, splashing and dipping into the water with glee.

As if they had come visiting from a landlocked town having no sea breeze.

On my visits to Bangalore, my hometown, when I would hear people complaining about the traffic, I would tell them, ‘But this actually feels like slow-motion to me’.

Away from the constant buzz of phones, trains, plans, lights, cabs, dreams, bars, hits and flops.

I’ve lived here for 23 years, but I am afraid to call it home

There’s always the feeling that I have to leave

Now when I visit Bombay, I take the train during off-peak hours and stand on the footboard to feel the breeze while the city passes me by.

It’s a relief to be standing on firm ground.

With no spirit chasing me.

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Ochre Sky Stories with Natasha Badhwar and Raju Tai is where I came into my own as a writer. Rather than moulding me into a becoming ‘good writer’, they encouraged me to become the ‘best writer’ that I can be. And the way to do that was rather simple: write.