It was in the winter of 2001, while sipping on piping hot coffee (which tasted more like boiled water with a chocolate flavor that our beloved college canteen wala called "hot coffee") I made a mention that I very clearly remember, "Yaar apna time kharab chal raha hai, nahi to mujhe Mumbai me ab tak kisi film ka hero ban jaana chahiye tha...".. Miss Nidhi Verma, the then college heartthrob giggled (like a horse) while passing through and evesdropping on my conversation.. Gupta smiled and the chorum of Abhisek, Upasna and Rachna passed the motion with absolute majority. Those days, I was quite facinated with Mumbai. I cannot explain. May be because of its larger than life portrayal in movies. The simple lives of people geting compliated. I used to wonder if the city was really magical. Those were also the days when Me and Gupta spent a majority of our time listening to Lucky Ali. The guy with a guitar in his hand and a small bag pack. He would visit unknown villages, hug unknown children, jump into poolsides with urchins, have food with earthen looking ladies and most of all sip the morning tea with dishevelled earth diggers. That was a life I aspired for. I loved the whole concept of being all alone with only strangers as company. The heart birmming with warmth of faceless people.
So, Mr. Srinivas had this wierd collage of dreams of going to Mumbai and more importantly roaming around with no travelogue. It was the ideal of mix of dreams with fearlessness. Alot of people claim that Life doesnt give what you really want. I beg to differ. I think sub-consciously, whatever you wish for, you get it. When in school, I really wanted to be in the college that I went to. In college, I wanted to move out and see the world as it was and I got that on platter. Its what you make out of it is the question. These are the times when you really move away from it, you will wonder, "ohh My god that is exactly what I wished for." But being closer to it makes you see the nuances of it and the dirtier things become more prominant making the entire dream a nightmare.
I moved out of my house on 12th June 2003. On my way to Nashik, I had mixed feelings of nervousness and excitement. My entire first year of Post graduation I was out of the college for projects. I went around many places. One particular assignment was in the interiors of Tamilnadu selling confectionaries. It was quite exhilarating. The hinterlands were wonderful and especially "barota-korma" on roadside Dhabas was mouthwatering. It was tiring, but nevertheless I was living my dream. I was in those smallish private buses that play loud music or masala tamil movies with the fragrance of jasmine almost killing you inside it. The jump out of the bus on the bus stop with a thud and thinking of people imagining you as the savior from the "gabbar " of the village ws a feeling I thoroughly enjoyed. Of coruse by the time I returned to the college, people had long forgotten me and I was being forced to seek company of people with confused identities and inflated egos.
But there was nothing to stop me. I was again out of college on the pretext of co-ordinating for admissions. That was again quite exciting. I was the last man on the list to go to Delhi. I was excited as it had been nearly 6 months since I had been home. The question papers for the admissions arrived 5 minutes before departure of trains going to all parts of India spread over numerous platforms on the Pune railway station. The question papers covered in jute bags had to portered across running traffic to the exact platforms in their allotted numbers to each team. By the time we delivered the entire bunch of question papers to each team, we realised that the Delhi team was left with fewer of them and that people would have to stay back. It was quite heartbreaking as I was stopped right at the entrance of the compartment and literally pushed out of the train. I stood there on the platform. As the oversmartness and cunningness of my batchmates dawned once again, I was left alone on that platform that day. The train moved out of the platform in slow motion. As each compartment desperately tried to make its way out of the platform, the tears from my eyes made a similar attempt. But I managed to control it. I eventually did go the next day, but entire drama surrounding it was an amazing experience.
After I returned from Delhi, I was again involved in placement process. The entire first year of post graduation I was out on some pretext or the other. I was known as "visiting student" of the college. My summer placement happened to be in Mumbai. Mumbai, my city of dreams. When the first time I saw Victoria terminus, my eyes gleemed with joy. I suddenly found myself super imposed on Bollywood cutouts. But Mumbai was unforgiving. The commuting, the sultry weather, the rains, untimely work, freaky bosses, depressing hostel at IIT and lack of company made Mumbai a harrowing experience. I felt like running away from my dream. As I said earlier, you get what you want, but you have to be ready to accept the entire package.
In the second year, I was a wasted force because of the change of guard at my PG. We hardly studied and most of the time I spent in computer lab "orkutting", studying for placements in library or having vada pavs with chai at thelas outside the campus. But I did manage to steal two trips to Bangalore. Both of them for the placement drive, but the second one was for Arvind my cousin. I reached Bangalore to find him in a state of mental corrosion. Bereft of enthusiasm, he was unable to connect with me as we used to in olden days. It was only on the day of my departure that I shouted at him that he was woken up from his emotional slumber and decided to take stock of his life. That one trip was monumental in getting my brother back to life. After that I made two trips back to Delhi and eventually to Mumbai - my second home.
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