Umr jalwon mein basar ho, yeh zaroori to nahin
Har shab-e-gam ki seher ho, yeh zaroori to nahin
This must have been on the minds of my colleagues from office who stayed at the corporate house for the second consecutive night, been away from their families for 36 hours by then. After all, not on all days can one be with family. And some nights, especially second in a row, with uncertainty looming large, is shab-e-gam after all, and expecting a sunny morning (seher), even literally, would be expecting too much.
The gam ranged from a submerged car to a four-year-old who wanted mamma to come home (in Kandivilli, from Colaba) by "aeroplane", if bus, car, and train are not running. Then there was this lady who was planning for her mother's birthday for days, and all that she could do was to call her up using a cell phone with an ever-wavering signal. So much for planning. Life is a typical project, planning to plant apples, red and delicious, and end up eating mushroom, poisonous at times. Yes, you can always add peas to the mushroom, if you are north-Indian, but c'mon, expecting peas to taste like apples, is weird even by Jaat (Gurgaon Police) standards.
Of course, gam, like mushrooms also comes in several varieties, from missing mom's birthday (Rachita), to trying to breathe under earth after a landslide has hit you (an old woman in Saki Naka), to going hungry for 36 hours straight (Ghushe), to walking through 5 feet water (Neha), to spending two nights in office (Doctor), to still having a wild shrub for hair (me), Fructis notwithstanding.
We decided to have the second evening in the Corporate House livelier than the previous one. Pardon me, we did not decide to, some odd beast, called Torrential Rains, and the instinct of not letting the beast dampen our spirits, forced us to. You can wet a Mumbaikar's body, but you can't dampen his spirit. After all you are no more than some menacing H2O. That doesn't even sound scary. You can strand our lives, but not keep them from playing Dumb Charades. And that is what we did. Everyone seemed to understand...
Neend to dard ke bistar pe bhi aa sakti hai
Unki aagosh mein sar ho yeh zaroori to nahin
After all, when the mother and the four-year-old embrace (aagosh), all will be mended, and mended damn well. Meanwhile, research is on about correct way of embracing such that lack of a Colaba - Kandivilli flight can be properly put to perspective.
While one Dumb after the other took centre stage, prayers must have been on in everyone's minds. No silly, the movie names were not that tough that you need pray to get them right.
Prayers for him/her, prayers for his/hers, prayers for theirs, prayers for ours. Sab ke liye sajde
Shaikh karta to hai masjid mein Khuda ko sajde
Uske sajdon mein asar ho, yeh zaroori to nahin
As fresh rain knocked at the window pane, weariness and helplessness flashed many a face. One of those moments when the question that you've been avoiding for a while now, "Does God exist?" needs a revisit. From the funny, "Is there a complaint redressel register up there?" to the more mundane, "Am I going home tomorrow?", the effectiveness of the prayers was yet to be seen.
Earlier in the day, I had walked down to the Marine Drive near NCPA, to dump some of my weariness. What I saw is probably what is called the Mumbai Spirit. Each face, young or old, braids or bald, pretty or otherwise, grateful-but-not-showing townie or stranded-but-so-what suburban, had a lets-live-it-now, a we'll-meet-tomorrow-when-it-comes, look. In fact, it was so cheering that I too decided to go right till the far end and sit on those crab laden tripod shaped cement rocks. Let's live it now, we'll meet the crabs tomorrow.
On my way back I saw an old man, rich and apparent, white kurta pyjama, folded hands, bare feet as in a temple, looking at the sea, probably calling his God (Saaki). It could very well be a this-year-an-eighty-percent-on-my-stocks-please thing, but praying he was...
Sabki nazaron mein ho Saaki, yeh zaroori hai
... and so were people at the corporate house.
Sabki nazaron mein ho Saaki, yeh zaroori hai magar
Sab pe Saaki ki nazar ho yeh zaroori to nahin
My colleagues did end up going back to their houses this afternoon, almost after 50 hours.
While the industry and the economy mourn a Rs. 1000 crore loss, I'd be glad to know if the old rich man gets his eighty percent.
Sab pe Saaki ki nazar ho yeh zaroori to nahin
Dear Saaki, my expectations are only sixty percent, kindly oblige. I know you're overworked. You've just been to Mumbai, after an unexpected break.
Ah, when the Gods ensured that it won't be a dry day, we could do nothing but follow suit. So wine did keep us Dumbs happy. The toast was: "Bad Times, Good Spirits". Literally.
8 comments:
You have outdone yourself! The way you have drawn the analogy is indicative of superior writing skills.
Very well written.
Rahul - Being with you that night, I can relate to your thoughts, but honestly your perspective is that of an outsider and so is mine.
For someone who lives in the Corporate House (Colaba) and works at Nariman Point life did not really change that night, for you it was a night of entertaining others and you did a great job of keeping everyone's mind away from the rains.
It all started in the afternoon of July 26, 2005. At 3.30PM it seemed as though it was 7.30PM, everyone on my side of the office was talking about getting home (the local trains - lifeline of Mumbai) had stopped and Rahul walks in wondering “what's all the excitement about”. To think of it – Rahul’s workstation overlooks the window and he did not know what was happening outside. The technologist that he is (I would have really called him a geek, but it's his blog) - he showed off the new technology that he uses to tell him what the weather was outside. Believe me it did not tell us what was in store for us - no technology was able to tell us what was in store for us.
All my colleagues were wondering how to get back home and if everybody in their family was safe. Technology again gave away - cell phone networks were jammed. Just when you needed them. Most of the offices on our floor started shutting shop - we decided to hang on - hoping the rains would stop and things will get better by mid night. The women decided to go to the Corporate House while the men hung around in the office - did they have a choice?
Nothing got better - it only got worse. Our only source of information was the FM and they did a good job of keeping everyone informed. All they kept saying was to stay where ever everyone was and not get on the roads. We did get on the South Mumbai roads and wondered what the fuss was about - Colaba was dry and traffic could not have been better. Not being left with any choice we decided to go shopping - by now we were all pretty disgusted with our body smell. For the women it was the best mood lifter (take them to the mall and they forget everything).
By the time it was evening most of us were tired of not being home and with our families. It was my mom's birthday and how I longed to get back home - all I could do was talk to her on the phone (which was also difficult at times). My three year old dog was the only one who stayed with her on her 52nd birthday. My Dad was stranded in Silvassa wanting to get back to his wife. The others too had their reasons to feel low. Wonder what we would have been like if we were really stranded in the worse traffic Mumbai experienced.
Those 2 days took me back to my days in college when I always envied my townie friends in college - they always seemed to have the best of everything (till the time the Suburbs got Multiplexes). The last two days only strengthened my belief. Each one of us in town was completely untouched except for the ones who worked in the Suburbs and wanted to get back home. Even nature favored the privileged South Mumbaikars. When the “burbies” were struggling to save their lives and homes - the townies were struggling to get a movie ticket at INOX. To add to it, townie friend called me on Wednesday to tell me that “Town Rocks”!!
enjoyed rachita's version, a woman's perspective to the "experience"...
Nice Post - Very well written...
Sabki nazaron mein ho Saaki, yeh zaroori hai magar
Sab pe Saaki ki nazar ho yeh zaroori to nahin
The saaki in this case I think was more of the govt, whom everyone was expecting to do more, but they were not able to look at all
As they say - It is difficult to improve perfection :)
You rock dude!!
-Ashish
was a pleasure to read this post.
@Mo, Rachita - Thanks people, had it not been for you, I don't know how that night would have been.
@Shveta - Thanks and Rachita has a blog of her own, http://rachitamaker.blogspot.com, do pay a visit
@Smitali, and @amit - Thanks and great to know people appreciate and excitedly interpret ghazals, still :)
@Ashish, Rashmi, Sunil - Thanks for the encouraging words, esp when they come from you guys. Glad to be in the blogosphere!
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