Yeh hai Bombai meri jaan ! (This is Bombay, my love!)

My best buddy, Nikhil, said a very interesting thing to me just before I left Bombay this past week. He said “you’ve really connected with Bombay this time.” I was in Bombay for exactly 6 days. I am currently studying in the US so going back home to me is a big deal, usually planned for 2-3 weeks. He said this to me when I called him from the airport to say goodbye. Even though I absolutely love coming to Bombay, I hate coming back for such a short time. Nikhil, you’re spot on..

Everyone single person whose been to a foreign country gets connected to a certain place or city which reminds them of “home”. And home doesn’t necessarily have to mean the place you were born or you grew up. To me “home” is the place which fills me with peace, calm and a really profound sense of safety. But at the same time, I get this overwhelming pull and a rush just thinking about it. Bombay to me is home. I’ve been born here, grown up here..but it wasn’t until this trip that I have loved it.

It was a very warm feeling that I got when the pilot announced to look at the Line of Control between Pakistan and India on my flight from New York. That feeling just got stronger as we approached Bombay. We were lucky, or not, to have to circle around the airport a few times because “the runway had foreign objects on it.” I heard groans from fellow passengers, but the added time in the air gave me a good opportunity to look at my city. The first thing I noticed is how beautiful Bombay is. I guess it’s true for any city in the night from the air. What’s unique to Bombay is that unlike most cities I’ve visited, it is not a planned city. Atleast wasn’t much planned. Land was reclaimed from the sea as needed. From the air, Bombay looks like a very very intricate henna pattern. Roads are not parallel to each other; there are no avenues and streets. There are no intersections to speak of. Instead, just like the curving patterns of the “mehndi”, each road will connect to some other road by a series of branches and gullies. Some roads will pass through entire “mini-cities” (at least that’s what I think of the slums in Bombay) while others will be wide avenues with traffic speeding through. There’re many dark areas, which I guess were either mangrove swamps (undeveloped land). The lights make Bombay look like a necklace, particularly an Indian designed one with the chaotic arrangements of the roads and buildings enhancing the visuals of leaves, flowers, etc. I absolutely enjoyed the delay of my flight.

When the flight landed and I collected my luggage, I made my way to the exit. Nowhere else that I’ve visited (and all my friends are welcome to correct this) have I experienced the welcome you get at Bombay airport. As you approach the exit, you’ll hear the sound of a very large crowd. As you step into view, you’ll see passenger’s relatives, their friends, distant cousins and a band of another 10 people you may or may not know well, ready with big smiles to welcome you. To pick me up was my dad, my brother-in-law Niraj and my cousin Nipa. I was actually surprised that more people didn’t come. This is true for almost every Indian passenger who was coming back. It’s also true for when you’re leaving; though you may expect a few more people to say their goodbyes. I love it. The smiles that I saw, the happiness is really heart-warming and fills you up with that much more excitement to be back home.

On the car ride back, I’d already ordered Chinese food. I was craving it. In the US, it’s actually called as “Indian Chinese” because its really a different category of food by itself. Indians have a flair for spicy food, and “Indian Chinese” is made to suit our tastes. A healthy dose of garlic, ginger, chillies is what makes this mouth-watering. Staple Indian Chinese includes Manchurian, a soy-sauce based dish with a dark ginger and garlic gravy with vegetable dumplings made of shredded cabbage, carrot and other veggies, Sweet corn soup, which is a cream-based mildly sweet thick corn soup, “Hakka”-styled fried noodles or fried rice. My two favorites are Wonton soup, a watery clear soup with steamed vegetable dumplings and Paneer Chilly, a spicy soy sauce stirfry of garlic, ginger, paneer (cottage cheese), hot green chillies and vinegar. Its normally had as a started. I must say that if you’re a fan of food, Indian Chinese is a cuisine you must experience.

I had an argument with my cousin Nilay the other day. I claimed that every Indian woman is cute or good looking. Of course that sounds a bit ridiculous even to me, but there is an attractiveness that I find in Indian women that I haven’t noticed in others. I think it’s the colors. Indian clothes are traditionally very colorful and I find them to be extremely flattering to anyone who wears them; especially Indian women. They look beautiful in Indian clothes, and all my friends look stunning when they’re dressed up for an Indian occasion. The Punjabi or salwar kameez I think accentuates the curves and the colors, the blues and greens and reds and yellows, draws the eyes. Sometimes it can be a bit overdone, but all in all, Indian clothes to me are very attractive.

This time I spoke to or tried to make conversation with as many random people on the roads or taxi drivers or autorickshaw (three wheelers) drives as I could. Indians are definitely more talkative and more receptive than my experience in the US. I never once got a dirty look from any of them and at best times the conversation would carry on for the duration of my journey. It was light and easy to talk to everyone, but that could be because I was talking in Hindi. At Colaba causeway, a hot-spot for tourist shopping, I had good laugh with one of the street sellers when he was trying to swindle me to buy some replicas of the Taj. I’ve noticed that in the US, mostly in New York, most store/street sellers will not hold you in conversation and sometimes even be downright rude if they know that you’re doing anything but buying. I guess it’s ok, but there’s no need to be rude about it.

The last thing that I want to mention is the traffic and the traffic patterns. I’ve always said that if you can drive a car successfully in Bombay, you’re good for any country in the world. It is chaotic !! You’re not only supposed to be aware of whats in front of you and the two sides, but also what the car in front of the bus you’re behind is doing. A two lane road will normally have atleast 4 lanes of cars so close to each other that the side-view mirrors are almost touching. Even in this cramped space, there are motorbikes weaving in and out of traffic and an occasional hand-cart, though I’ve seen very few of these this trip. It looks chaotic but it’s a very controlled chaos. Traffic can be as bad as any major city, but it works. There’re always a few knicks and dents on the cars and the bigger more expensive cars are more cautious than most, but you’ll never really come across a major accident during the day time. The sheer volume of cars may be the reason for this, but even on clear roads, the cars are moving along without hithches. I absolutely and totally love driving in this city. I didn’t get a chance to this year, but I wish I had. When I drive in New York, you’ll hear me say “Ah ! I better turn my Bombay driving mode on”.

There’s chaos in Bombay and I see Bombay in every chaotic situation. I’m always comparing a crowd or a bus stop or Penn station to situations in Bombay. I’ll always end up saying “If this was in Bombay, then….” It’s the beauty of Bombay and it’s the life blood of the city. Nothing is really ever completely organized, there’re few queues, if any, that ever remain a queue. Bribing is a way of life, though I wish and wish and wish that the corruption would come under some sort of control. There’s greenery and there’s pollution. There are beautiful beaches with beautiful sunsets and then there’s open garbage and litter bugs right there. There are beautiful buildings and slums neighboring each other. There are expensive malls and utterly dilapidated hutments standing shoulder to shoulder. And I love it all.. I cannot wait to come back. Asli told me the other day that Bombay will always be there to embrace me, this time, maybe for the first time, I embraced Bombay..