The Vagabond

Yes, I am out on the streets of Mumbai. The other day, after reading my “philippic” on the city, a dear one remarked about the importance of visiting temple of the local goddess Mumba Devi, after whom the city is probably named, and devoting some time in prayers, hoping that would set everything in place. And interestingly, she had an anecdote to drive home her point, which makes me feel all the more averse to this idea, partly because I am a rebel (the bihari-rebel) and partly because I it is a suggestion. Four years in Guwahati and I never once visited the Kamakhya, and here, not even a fortnight and people expect me pay a visit to the local goddess. Yeah, probably that is what sets this city apart.



Now, just to make it official, I have been pushed out of the IIT, and that is the reason why I am on the streets. Suddenly, the Mumba Devi thought crosses my mind and brings out a dry chuckle. I remember how a fellow passenger warned me of my mobile phone sticking out of my pocket, and how that incident added even more venom to the already poisonous words that I am spitting out for this place. On another note, it was a Mumbaikar who was the reason I am writing this in peace. Every place has a Good Samaritan after all. “Jesus will answer your prayers” is written on the wall that faces me. I am losing time or the sense of it, if I may, adding to the irreparable loss I suffered the other day. I still look down at that very place, in a hope that I find my watch. It was more precious to me than his would have been to Jim or Della’s hair would have been to her.


I am still wandering on the streets of Mumbai, just drifting. The last time I talked to my sister, she asked me if I had finalized a play to stay. “Are you still a vagabond?” “Yes, darling.”


Did I talk about my work place? What matters most now is that it does not have an arrangement for sleeping and taking a bath. Fuck! It does not have an arrangement for me to sit down peacefully somewhere, and call it my desk. The other day I overheard someone saying that there isn’t enough room for the already existing employees and to add to their miseries, Deloitte has added 25 new analysts. It is an interesting place though, with people of every shape, size and colour. At the first glance, it strikes me that most of the employees are from Mumbai. And then I realize that this is no small city, and after all, Mumbai is the city of dreams. And if the locals cannot see their dreams fulfilled, need one say about those who migrate into it?


The first day was a mockery. They called us at 8:00 sharp and the first worthwhile person who came into contact with us came in only at 10:00. This is one of the most corporate organizations that I am talking about. And then there is this talk about stuff that one already knows. But still, you have to give them the credit of winding up everything in one day, because normally, I think, the induction takes three days. We left at around 18:00. Oh! Did I mention that some of the unfortunate ones were called to Mumbai for the orientation, which never happened though, and had to leave for Hyderabad immediately after the mock show? The good thing was that the company was paying for their travel and stay in Hyderabad. We, the people in strategy and operations do not have to undergo any specific training. And I found out why, very soon. The secret is that every one, right from the analyst to the senior manager, everyone has the clerical job at hand. We data mine for them, and they put that data in a presentation that takes a month or two to prepare. My first weekend was partly ruined because of this exercise. I left on Friday on 9:30 and spent the better part of Saturday in the office, formatting the text boxes in the presentation. Why me? Because the one who was supposed to be doing this thing left at 16:00 on Friday. The good thing was that I met my friends from Bhagalpur and had a nice dinner. Lunch ka badla dinner . I think it is only the two of us who are serious about the job, my mate from the college and I. The others are doing the right thing by not giving a damn. Yesterday, a manager was furiously searching for a new recruit, who again, had left the office on 16:00. I was smiling.


I am still without a shelter, a roof over my head and it starts raining. It takes me back to the memories of the lost umbrella. The smile vanishes and anguish finds itself imprinted all over my face. Why do I feel that the people of Mumbai have that larger than life image of themselves? All this frenzy and pace and commotion…I don’t think that is necessary. I never thought Mumbai was a place of hypocrites, unlike Delhi, but somehow this feeling is waning. It is surprising to see every single person who can talk in English, does so. I do not have any exception to that, but that it makes me feel a little out of place. And I received the shock of my life in the office, when I overheard another conversation. What I could understand by putting the bits and pieces together was someone-hindi-dehati. Is this what speaking in English is all about? Is this what Mumbai is all about? I think I have yet to discover.


I am strolling towards Andheri when I hear a familiar voice. I look back and it is the Man Friday (actually Thursday or Saturday would have made more sense, because he is the one I met on Saturday and he is the one who again comes to my rescue on Thursday). He offers me some space at his place till I get a roof on my head. I classify this as one of the few instances when a well comes to someone thirsty. Before he could smile, I ask him to pick my stuff and guide me through the Mumbai maze.


I think I am here to stay for another fortnight.