#untitled – 111119 (on Andheri)

I don’t know what to write. There is a lot to be done – both in terms of what people expect from me (reverts, etc) and what I expect from myself (proactive work). But I am not in the frame to do either. Well, the frame is a funny thing. On one hand, you want to make your mood your bitch and get it to act as and when you want it to function. And on the other, you want to succumb to the vagaries of mood and give in. After all, that is what being human is. No? Anyhow. Here we go. 

So, I’ve just moved to a new locality within Mumbai (Andheri West). Even though I have been on and off in Mumbai since 2007, this is the first time that I am living in this part. The first time when I was here, I lived in Santa Cruz. Then I was in Nahar (Chandivali), Bandra, and Ghatkopar. Never in Andheri. I don’t know why. Thing is, my choice of houses has always depended on proximity to work and to friends. There’s no third leg. I’ve always sought familiarity and convenience over everything else. And that has meant that a lot of things that you would expect when you change a house haven’t happened to me. The best example? Hunt for a maid! Every time I have moved because I have been close to a friend or something, I’ve had references. If I am in trouble, most times, someone is a hop, skip or a jump away.

Not this time.

The place where I have moved to, I don’t know anyone. The only thing familiar is an McD, about 500 meters from my place. And a Starbucks about a KM from my place. And because these places are close by, since I’ve moved here (about 2 days now), I am walking over. And walking a lot in general.

These walks are reminding me of the time I’ve spent in unfamiliar locations in new cities in strange countries. Just that I don’t have Dipanker next to me. And I don’t have an event that I am supposed to execute. But everything else is the same. New place. New experiences. New things to ogle at. New questions. And the quest to find new answers. As I walk in these new lanes, I marvel at the sights and sounds and smells and people around me. Yes, they are Indian, as Indian as you get. But there is something about the place that is different from all the other places that I have lived in Mumbai. Oh, that’s the thing about Mumbai. Each pincode offers you a distinct flavor of life.

Ghatkopar is upper-middle class Gujju. That means, “modern outlook with traditional values” and other things like that. Could also mean nouveau riche but you never know. May be they were rich even back then when Ghatkopar was not what is it today? 

Powai is expats and expat kinds. That means people who have fancy jobs that allow them fancy lifestyles. The kinds they would have in a different country. You know, cobbled streets, running clubs, gardens et at.

Bandra is cool and modern. That means that any new revolution, a new spark would first get ignited at Bandra and then spread to other parts. I think if you traced back the origins of Avocados, Keto, Kombucha and other such things, you’d end up in one of the tiny lanes in Bandra.

Andheri, ladies and gents is what the maya nagri is all about. The city of dreams. The city that never sleeps. Where everything is possible. You could be hoping to land a job at a radio station and you can become the biggest superstar the world has seen. You could be beach-hopping searching for the love of your life and you’d find her on the very last beach of that day. And then you’d conquer the Bollywood. You could sleep on the floor of cafes for years and then catapult to stardom overnight. You know, this where you could be that bhagwaan in an instant. Your greatest success is just an accident away. And from whatever I know, accidents routinely happen around here. In fact, I think one ought to pick the place they live at, things they do to maximize the number of unplanned interactions with others in the same interest areas. You want to be an actor? Live in Andheri. Want to be a painter? Bandra. A start-up? Powai!

Coming back. Everything written about the magic of Mumbai, I suspect, is applicable to Andheri. Charm could be Bandra. Heritage could be Colaba. Fashion could be Bandra. But Magic has to be Andheri. And nothing else.

Now, I am just about 2 days old here, a tad delirious (I haven’t been sleeping well – there’s no AC at home) and little lost (people are still unfamiliar). I will explore more in the next few days. Let’s see if I can discover what makes Andheri this unique melting pot like no other. In Mumbai. Or may be in India.

Till then, over and out!

Oh, one more thing. Should you have stories that you think are uniquely Andheri, please do share those with me. I am at @saurabh.

PS. The biggest superstar does not live in Andheri. But his life, his story must’ve inspired a disproportionately large chunk of men and women and others to move to Mumbai, to Andheri. Hoping they’d get a step closer to their dreams. 


PPS. This move to Andheri is unique for me because this is the first time I am not doing it for my work or for a friend. Something in me had rebelled against I don’t know what and I wanted to sort of restart my life from scratch. This move is the closest that I could do to erase, undo, delete my previous life. No, I can’t stop with C4E or AWSL. No, I can’t hit that reset button. But I can start. You know, today’s the first day of the rest of your life? That. Ok. I don’t even know what I am talking about. Over and out. Do lemme know what you think of this piece. 

This close…

If I’ve ever come close to giving up on the dreams of making it big and working towards the bigness, this is it.

I am this close, as close as it gets to giving up. So much so that I want to pack my bags and leave. To a place where no one knows me and I dont know anyone. Just pack the damn bags and head to a new place, to a new life and restart the goddamn life. Agreed that at 35 I am too old to do this kinda shit but I don’t see a way out. I mean don’t even see that light at the end of the tunnel.

I know no one else imposed this life on me. I chose this for myself. I made this life. Whatever I have, whatever I dont, all of it is a direct outcome of choices I’ve made. I can of course cry that I did not get the opportunities that others got. I can whine about the non-existent silver spoon in my mouth. But will the rant matter? No!

All I know is that this is not the life I signed up for (but I probably deserved earned). I need to find the reset button. Or may be, the giveup button. Whatever it is. Need to find it. And hit it.

Y. Yell out loud.

This is a part of the April A to Z Challenge. My theme is my Bucket List. Read about it hereOther posts in the A to Z ChallengeAncient RuinsBookCoffee ShopDate a SupermodelEntrepreneurship(Be a) FinisherGive Away my WealthHandle a BabyInspireJack of all tradesKeep my shirt onMake a lot of moneyNoOff the GridPokerQuestion EverythingRun a MarathonSettle in the mountainsTeachUp in the Air(Master the) VedasWar of Words and X-men.

Next is Y. Y for Yell out loud. So loud that I lose my voice. So loud that my throat hurts. So loud that its louder than anything around me. Louder than the noise that people make at events like Woodstocks. Louder than your heart-thump when you’re in trouble.

Can you guess the building?

I want to stand on the top of a really high building and stare at the world go by underneath. I want to stare in the void and see my voice reach to the very bottom. I want to see myself getting spent at the effort. I want to see myself inside out and I want the wind to go in and clean me up from inside. I want to take a rebirth. I want to break some shackles. I want to cry with the effort that it takes to yell like that.

Its like getting a high. The kinds that you get when you drop acid. Or when you do drugs. Or when you win a lottery. Its something that probably cleanses you from inside. It probably makes you feel renewed.

I would have done it long back if it didn’t stigmatize people around. Yelling, in my culture, is connected to extreme pain or happiness or shock or something. There’s no one that yells without reason. And definitely not for the frivolous reason of getting a high. Or renewing themselves. Or yelling just for the sake of trying! Damn these boundaries! It has to be one of the most liberating feelings ever. Probably more liberating than the bungee. Or the skydive.

I have to do it. At least once before I hang my boots!