Mumbai.
The capital of Maharashtra, the greatest of all cities, the city
that never sleeps, the city of vada paav, the city of Saki Naka traffic,
the city of dividends and debentures, the city of glamour and glitz, the city of
cricket.
But most importantly, the city of ambition. The A-word flows in
the arteries and veins and capillaries of the metropolis that burns with the
desire for more every time it breathes.
Had it had the time, the city would probably have welcome me in
open arms. Unfortunately, it chose not to wait for me; instead, it rushed to
catch Virar Local and grabbed a bread pakora with sookha chutney on
its way.
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| In case you are not familiar with local trains in Mumbai, especially Virar Local Photo courtesy: Google images |
I was not fast enough to catch up. I will perhaps never be. But I
lived on. I still do. Despite the rains. Despite the trains.
But this is not a story about Mumbai, or for that matter, Navi
Mumbai. This is about an ambitious Navi Mumbai entity nipped in its bud. Let me
start from the beginning.
***
Some time back I was back to the slow pace of Kolkata, which is
not the city that never sleeps, not the city of vada paav, not the city
of Saki Naka traffic, not the city of dividends and debentures, not the city of
glamour and glitz, not the city of cricket.
Kolkata is the city that sleeps after lunch, the city of double-egg-double-chicken
rolls, the city of lazy tram rides through Maidan, the city of Birendra Krishna
Bhadra, the wannabe London that will never happen.
Mumbai has turned into super-Mumbai and will blossom into supreme
Mumbai within a decade; or maybe before that. Kolkata does, and will continue to remain the city of
stagnation or leisure, depending on the way you look at it.
I had left the buzz of Mumbai with two apples (which kept two
doctors away) and approximately 250 grams each of bitter gourd and flat beans
in the refrigerator. There was also half a kilo of chicken in the freezer. As
for the potatoes and onions — about half a kilo of each — they were kept
outside the machine.
***
I left behind the tranquil dreams of Kolkata to return to the electric
reality of Mumbai after a week’s hiatus. I took out the two keys from my pocket
and opened the two locks in succession (why do these Mumbai apartments have two
doors?).
To my surprise I found everything in the apartment intact. Even the
overpriced apples, which I consumed within ten minutes; then my eyes wandered
across the top tier of the three-storeyed stand that hosts onions and potatoes.
Then I saw it. One onion, living up to the indomitable Mumbai spirit
of burning ambition, had sprouted scallion. Check the picture below.
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| The audacity! |
Obviously, I was in no mood of watching the scallion outgrow me. I
may not be as competitive as a Mumbaikar, but I would certainly not accept
defeat to an onion irrespective of its location.
I sued them and passed the verdict myself. The purple onion and
the green scallion (ah, how beautifully they rhyme!) made their way to my alimentary
canal.
Ha!
