What doesn't kill you

The moment I landed, I kept on saying that Mumbai is very hot. It was December and coming from Bangalore, I was under the false impression that Mumbai is really hot. One of my colleagues tells me “wait till the actual heat hits you”. I am not particularly a big fan of hot temperatures so this was bad news to me. And then I realized this new city might just have more bad news for me! Choosy as I am, I don’t tend to like and bond with people easily. More so this was office. Who goes to work to make friends? Bread and butter matters more! This might not have been the first time in my life but I was all on my own- a guest house, a new project, new people and a totally unknown city. One thing in Mumbai was liberating- the language. Since I have no problem speaking in Hindi (courtesy my ex), I won’t have any language issues now. I needed vegetables, cable connection or a plumber; I would be in a position to speak to them myself. Bangalore was all about my roommate doing that for the both of us. I did realize that the “Hindi” out here is totally different from what I know it as. People add a little humour, a little roadside lingo and a few cussing and it’s a brand new language! First things first, I was told by a good friend (who was also simultaneously transferred to Mumbai along with me) that a friend of his advised him not to use the word “Bhaiya” around. This forbidden word would mean anyone from north India, better still UP and the erstwhile Bihar. They are supposed to be bastards-who-come-and-steal-your-jobs. I was in the office library in my first week of joining in the Mumbai campus when a man says out loud- “stay here, work here but don’t try to become the boss of all”. Eventually, I realized this is no laughing matter. Another friend witnessed two “bhaiya” people being cornered and beaten up and ultimately thrown out of a city bus! I suppose marking a territory is a bit of a business for many. Moral of the story- be safe, shut up! No quarrelling, no fooling around with the marathi-manoos sentiments. My first local train ride was not a good experience! Romanticized as “the thing” which Mumbaikars (don’t call me one already) identify with, it is in no world meant for the faint hearted. No doubt it is a huge relief to your pockets for it’s no Volvo ride, it’s cheaper and takes you to your destination faster. Sundays are but the worst days to attempt to ride a local train and I chose just it. Half the trains (that’s what I am informed) shut down for maintenance on this day, tracks are repaired. This results in a lesser frequency of trains and as a corollary a bad rush. There are rules (albeit unwritten) while riding a local train. It’s OK if people stamp at you, it’s OK if you ask some stranger to “baaju” (I want to translate it as “side”) and squeeze in for a room for you in the seat which is already and 100% occupied. It is NOT OK to cuss at people for stepping on your toes. They will also cuss you back- till you vomit that is. And when you are about to reach your destination you must all get up and head towards the exit. Mind you a train at halt also invites new passengers to get up- so make your move before they push you up. Push them down! The train hardly stops for 30 seconds. Yes, I am not exaggerating. Speed impresses me but it also kills I suppose. Last lesson on local trains I learnt that day (and was sort of crucial)- always carry your backpack on your chest and not on your back. Reason being those pick-pockets? We’ll see! Well, as I was getting down or do I say pushed down the train, my backpack got stuck amongst the crowd of people coming down and boarding! The train starts to run and I am still stuck with my body down the train and my backpack somewhere in between- stuck midair. Lucky that my mother prays for me regularly (I don’t remember the last time I offered prayers even for myself), one final forceful exertion of all my will power and might and I got my backpack with my body, both down the fast moving train. So pick pockets yes and also- your dear life! I am used to a very formal set up in the workplace. It’s OK to discuss a little private life and be a little friendly. But that is it! Definitely NOT OK with a “mawali” (street-culture) atmosphere. I started missing having conversations in English. Here people rub the Mumbaiya Hindi in your face. Meetings, discussions- everything started happening in “Hindi”. People I hung out made toilet jokes and lunch time was all cussing of the mother sister categories. I am no virgin to cussing but it is an interjection moment for me and not a colloquial habit. Another thing which hit me in the head like no other was the “forward” people in Mumbai. I don’t know what it is that this city brings out in people. Affairs, affairs and affairs and people “sharing” it with you. Intra marital, extra marital and all kinds of affairs. I knew that all the people in this new workplace will be more experienced than me. I thought that meant I always had technical help available. I never knew that being more experienced also meant married and married men and women do act desperate at times! Most of them mock at the notion of a monogamous, life-long relationship and embrace affairs (which I guess will be mainly temporary and sexual). Married men drooling over younger girls seems to be the new fashion in India’s most expensive city! Beat me to death but I can’t deny my tryst with these people as a nightmare. Of course, breaking the nice is never easy. A new place can never win your heart unless you get rid of your own inhibitions and prejudices. Fast forward to just six months and I am in love with Mumbai. I made “friends” in the workplace and they care for me a lot. Even went out on a date! I was instrumental in coaxing my online book club people to meet up more regularly. I am part of the employee forum in office and we organize fun events at times. Life is better!