FEB THE SIXTH

Feb the Sixth

                   February 6th 2009 , possibly one of the most happening and memorable days of my life. I had already foreseen that the next 24 hours are going to be interesting, but I wasn’t expecting a futiguingly hectic day at all. It was no lesser than a movie scene, a series of scenes rather.

It started when I went to Mumbai for the first time since puberty. Initially, I was in Pune for my interview for a well known Institution but couldn't make it because I am not a girl. However, I was happy I couldn’t make it. They selected 53 girls out of 64 total seats and moreover work experience was required (that's how I consoled myself)

On friends' request I decided to visit Mumbai with them. After searching for about 30 minutes we got a Van to Mumbai which surely was less costly than others we incurred 30 mins before. We weren't alone on our way and probably to make our day more complicated, irregular and surreal a few irregular personalities were needed. Before we four arrived at the not so welcoming 'City of Dreams', Mumbai, we encountered a Pimp, (a junior pimp in fact ), a diet consultant and others in the same Van . That Pimp  guy was a jerk, a complete moron who was enough qualified for the job. After all what qualifications such jobs need, maybe a one time bad experience with 10 girls and contact with a few more pimps can make it happen. And yes it is Job. I was the youngest inside the van and probably the least interested person in women (for spending a night).

It was this short 3 hour journey which made me think that I am going to have an interesting day because the guys in the Van were not only weird but appealing and alive at the same time. I still cannot forget the whining laugh of that junior Pimp, he was a fun loving man, I wondered what's fun for him?

After a few requests he agreed to give a girl's number to everyone in the Van and warned everyone not to call her before she replies your message as her father doesn't know about her side business. Everyone nodded (except me), I suppose I was the only guy in the van who never had sex, a dumb guy as the pimp quoted but he also appreciated it as Sex is like a drug, you get addicted to it and then it slowly ruins your life. His words appealed to me, he was sounding like a mature person. He couldn’t escape it all even if he tried, no wonder he never gave it a try. He wasn’t satisfied but happy.

              While everyone was busy making plans for the day. I peeped inside me, hunting for the answers of few questions which I faced before, but never dared to answer. This was the moment I got the answer, not everyone who is satisfied is happy and vice-versa. For me being happy is being satisfied but to my surprise I never reached a stage when I could say I am satisfied now. Apparently, we always need something to move on, we cannot sit idly in the veil of satisfaction and that’s human nature. So I eventually reached the conclusion  that I won’t discuss this satisfaction factor anymore as I hate being confused but still remain in the same mode mostly. So there is no point.

            We reached Mumbai around 1.30 am and no sooner we ensured that the last train for Borivali is at 1.40 a.m. we started running. But it wasn’t easy as we had two luggage bags with us, we had to run 700 meters cross a bridge and catch the train in 10 mins without thinking of anything. No words, only action could make it possible for us. And it did. It was a mind freaking chase, I almost missed the train but I think it was worth it as we travelled for free. The train was on time, it was 2.20 a.m. when we reached Borivali. My friend’s cousin received us with open heart and then I realized that I was in Pune 8 hrs back, planning to go back to Indore and now I am in Mumbai without telling grandpa at home that I am here, I like this thing about life,

Uncertainty. You never know what’s going to happen. You decide to commit suicide and jump from the top of a multistory building and when you reach the ground, you find yourself beside your bed on the floor and then you realize it was a nightmare. Such is life, a dream which can break any moment, so I decided to live it with the moment. I must mention that whatever you read or hear about Mumbai is probably correct. Mumbai is a thought provoking city; if you are in Mumbai, not only good dreams but nightmares do come true as well.

            When we reached the cousin’s flat, we were almost fatigue and our muscles were demanding rest. So I allowed them to sleep while I was still awake and thinking about the journey. My friends were planning to call the girl. The prime reason for which we were in Mumbai was, shopping. On Friday nights they arrange a market where you can find any possible thing which you can call fashionable but there is a secret not to be told to everyone and yet everybody knows, this was a thief market which starts before dawn and closes in the morning around 8am . Keeping the reputation of the market in mind we decided to carry only one mobile with us. To be specific the market starts at 4 a.m. and one who wishes to buy some good stuff reaches there by 3.45am before the market opens.

We got ready at 3.15 am sharp that means only an hour of rest. And reached there by train at 4.00 am sharp.

No doubt it was cheaper than any other place in Mumbai and here one can see true slum of India. The market was like a MELA and it’s next to impossible for a new comer to locate the exact place to find stuff. We took 3 damn hours to buy 6 pair of shoes and a few jeans. But those 3 hours weren’t easy as we lost each other in the mid of the market and you guessed it right, we only had one cell phone. In the meantime when I was searching for my friends I met few more jerks handling them was like handling untied cows. I searched out everywhere for almost half an hour but no sign of friendliness , all I found was strange men smelling like shit, dying to sell you whatever they can.

Ultimately when I saw one of my friends, I thought my search is over but even he dint know where the other two were. After searching some more we all were together humanly blaming each other.

We caught a train back to the cousin’s flat and I discovered that my muscles were upset with me, how I could be so ignorant of them. We were like dead men walking with mice starving in their stomach. Not a very good synonym to use here but that’s what we felt at the moment.

I ate and slept for almost 8 hours it was 6.00 p.m. and I had to catch a train to Indore at 6.30 pm. I woke everyone up, they got ready and we all hustled each other in the auto. The auto driver wasn’t a very good man, I thought. As he permitted only 3 of us to sit in the auto , we requested him but he dint agree. Finally we hired another auto to the Railway station but as it was written we got stuck in the MUMBAI TRAFFIC I should call it MUMBAI TERREFIC rather. The station was still half a mile and the clock showed 6.28 pm literally, it was digital. I took my bag and ran hard; friends were following with another bag. At the station I saw a train was pumped up, my heart sank and I hurt a few people in a hurry but I had no time to say sorry which I do not regret .I crossed the bridge my friend almost parallel to me and we both were chasing the train.

My smart friend shouted as I was struggling with the bag ,”Leave the bag and run fast” I left the bag thinking that he’ll pick it up. To my wonder he started running faster than me and almost defeated me if it was a race, but it wasn’t. I looked at him to make sure he is carrying my bag but his hands were free.

I turned and my bag was lying on the ground 50 feet back. I ran back collected the bag and the train was gone. I sighed and of course I was upset.

Then I inquired and somebody told me it was not my train and my train is yet to arrive .I gave a mixed response and turned to my friend, smiled and said it wasn’t my train. But it was again not going to be that easy for me. I asked where my other bag is, my friend said, he must be with one of the two. When others arrived empty handed I wasn’t shocked as I had an intuition that I lost my bag. I was right, they started blaming each other. Putting their conversations in the background, I started thinking of what I lost with the bag. Initially I couldn’t think of any think precious and told them that there was nothing worthy in that bag . But, later I discovered that my file with all my original certificates and mark sheets was in that bag. Not just this, I borrowed a book from a friend’s friend and my whole assignment work saved in a pen drive all these things were in that bag.

I decided to cancel my reservation and find the bag, but where? I don’t even know where I had lost it. We changed 2 auto rickshaws before reaching the station and there are thousands of autos running on the roads of Mumbai, where to find it?

Still my friends took a rare chance to search every possible auto. Meanwhile I stood in the ticket cancellation line. I demanded a pen for filling up the Cancellation form but nobody offered me help. I was annoyed, this shouldn’t happen after such a long hectic day, I said to myself. Somehow I filled the form and was waiting for my turn; suddenly a thought clicked my mind. What will I do? Even if I am here, I can’t make people search my bag for me just because I am an outsider and don’t know anyone in Mumbai. I kept on thinking and ended up not cancelling the ticket.

I called my friend to meet me on the platform and I was stunned to see that my train was already standing on the platform. I told him that try to find the bag for me, and I am leaving for Indore. He agreed and the train whistled it was about to pump up in a minute or two and these 100 seconds were miraculous as I put them.

I got a call from someone who became God for me at the moment he revealed his identity. He was THE auto rickshaw driver in whose auto I left my bag. He said sir; I found a bag in my auto which apparently seems to be yours .I am worried and think it has a lot of important stuff of yours; you come soon and collect it. I told him to come to Borivali police station where one of my friends registered a complaint, he agreed. I said I’ll pay whatever charge you want, he humbly replied I am not doing it for the money I just thought you must terribly needing this stuff.

I said thanks in the most humble and formal way I could and then questioned him where did he get my no. from?

He replied,” You have your CV [Curriculum Vitae] in that file which carries your residential address and number. I called at your home in Indore and they gave me your cell no. and that’s how I contacted you”

After the good news that my bag is safe, I heard a shocking news. He called at my home and now grandpa also knows that I am in Mumbai. My mom later told me that her heart almost sank when some stranger from Mumbai and called home regarding me.

No matter what, my 100 seconds were over and I had already stepped into the train. I told my friend to collect my bag from the police station.

I entered the train with a huge smile on my face, I searched for my seat and then I discovered that I don't have a confirm reservation. I smiled some more. And then I looked for a guy who had a confirm reservation, he was a friend of my friend’s older brother. I met him; he was from Indore and lived in the next colony. He allowed me to share his seat but I wasn’t too comfortable and I dint sleep the whole night, I dint have much clothes to cover my body and it was very cold. The next day I caught cold and I was sick for 3 days. I got my bag back after one month when my friend arrived Indore. In the whole journey from Pune to Mumbai to Indore, I only regret one thing. I forgot to ask the name of the person who honestly helped me getting my lost bag back in a city like Mumbai. The Auto rickshaw driver.

The day was over and I still don’t know it was a good day or a bad day but all I know about that day is “It was special and I learned a lot.”

It isn’t a very interesting story or incident to read, but to me it always sounds fresh and special. I always remember this day and smile at what I had done in tensed situations. I miss Mumbai for just a single day visit, I feel like I have noticed, and faced real Mumbai, which is non glamorous, happening, alive and unstoppable.

For me Mumbai rocks, the people of Mumbai rocks and I am not mentioning all this just because my story had a happy ending. In fact I believe it doesn’t matters how tragic or happy the end is, the lessons we learn in a journey and how we imply them in our life are the things which should be counted.