BOMBAY MY WHORE!

The clouds surround the wet stones of marine drive.

Drenched and soaked creating an aura for noir fiction premises. Its as
if the gods have smoked and puffed the sky looming large over
dreadful fates. Making then apt settings for morbid and sinister evoking
of my mind. But i am just a guy finding solace in what this time warped
whore offers me. The sea here has been a witness to all my
apprehensions,romances,ecstasy and morose. Driving around town in a
taxi handling take away coffee with heavy doses of vodka mixed and
marlboros which feed my lungs I feel I have travelled back in time
through a portal. An transition into the old world with greek and roman
architecture passing me by. The abandoned talkies are like whores
similar in both vein and blood to Bombay who once in her prime had
hearts to break ,lustful devotees to ignore is now a monument to times
inevitable curse.

My love & longing came to enlightening realization
only when I was isolated from the city.i was in delhi. A pompous
exhibitionist goon metropolitan doesnt help my need for subtlety.i
was there for what on calendar appears 2 years but an eternity of
despise for me. The few saving graces about the corroders of power



delhi were the humble middle class people of jama and chandini
chowk,the hash joints of pahargang and old forts.Pahargang is a
phantasmagoric world of weed and cheap beer with motels whose
lights seem imported from hong kong.I fear the excessive obsession
with Bombay may take jingoistic turns. The cigarette comes handy to
keep my head straight and not ponder on exaggerated possibilities.
So why this city & whats so great about it?
The mishmash of different cultures and ethos has made the city
tolerant and grounded in comparison to a few I have habituated. But
the city has its share of murkier past(92 riots, serial blasts).But the
unpretentiousness cannot be evaded. Where else in the world would i
find higher middle class who can afford cars prefer to commute by
trains. Maybe its convenience but respect is earned just for the choice
not the intent. I know a bawa (parsi) uncle (owner of a restaurant in
colaba) who still scoots chetak. Gangsters, bar dancers,
dabbawallahs,movie gods,stock brokers plethora of idiosyncratic
characters populate and choose Bombay as their bed making it unique.
Their modus operandi is quite similar too which I wont delve into. The
eccentricities in air smells like whisky to me. Pretty sweet.
Bombay is a old clich. Its the city of dreams I am told. Its an
illusion sold to many the reason other cultures have migrated here. Its
a whore because it services irrespective of who you are. It invites all.
Nobodys lover but everybodys whore. Accessible but not yours to
keep. Innumerable tales of success has drawn people closer to the city.
A mass dream an amalgamation of numerous ambitions. Each of us
have inner extremity. But how many of us have the audacity to bring



that extremity into practice? The leap of faith could conclude in the
depths of despair. Bombay stays true to darwins survival of the fittest.
Warm whisky on random days and the worn out smoke
packets whispers to me that this city is debauchery in exercise, a
surreal trip that doesnt end, quirk which wont fade and numbness
which shall prevail. So bombay my whore the wad of cash rests by the
bedside table till then so long.