2010-01-09

In Mumbai, there's lots of drama...(Part 1)

Called by many names, Mumbai, as a film city, ensnares people's imagination like no other. Does life mimic cinema or cinema mimic life here? In the continuum of what imitates what, the answer must lie only somewhere at the center. You'll find all flavours of life on the street -romance, fantasy, adultery, violence, deceit, drama, comedy etc- as long as you care to step back and observe. When the regular Mumbaikar cannot escape the real virtuality of the city, how can a simple guy like me? Here's are a few scenes from my life in the past few months...

Scene#1 Take#1:

It's late on a rainy evening of an otherwise quiet Saturday. You might have noticed that when it has been drizzling continuously, things kind of quieten down. I am driving alone from one point in the suburbs to another, cutting across several busy junctions. Now, I am stuck at the same signal for the third time that the light changes back to red.

Just as I am cursing the traffic congestion, the autorickshaw that was , directionally speaking, hanging around my five o'clock pulls ahead to my one o'clock. A sweet face of a girl in her early twenties or late teens cranes out of the auto. Her hand gestures to me to roll down my car window. As I see her eyelashes blinking away rain drops, I wonder whether she is looking for directions. But she is in an auto and usually, it is me that goes to an auto for directions, not the other way round. Anyway, my car window hisses halfway down and I wait for her to speak.

She says,in perfect English, "Sir, can you please do me a favour?" I am all the more unsure about what to expect now. "Sir, I do not have money to pay to this autorishaw guy. Can you please give me 80 Rupees?" My mind races. Something is not right about this scenario. Her sweet voice wants me to believe this is a genuine request. Her immaculate private school educated accent tells me she must be coming from at least a middle class home. I cannot make out what she is wearing, but, someone in her position, I assume, must have a cellphone. Even if she does not have one, why doesn't she wait till she reaches her destination and arrange for money with whomever she is meeting? Maybe, she is even going home now. Either way, asking money, publicly, from a stranger, is not a smart thing to do in my opinion. Doing so exposes her vulnerability. Why is she asking me then?

A couple or three seconds pass as I consider all this. My thoughts are interrupted by her voice again, "Sir?". I have to decide whether I want to dig into my pocket or not. Would it be OK to not give her the money? 'Come on fast', I think. I go with my instincts and decide that the straight face and the confidence with which she delivered her request tells me that she is used to making such requests. Maybe she is just wanting to bill her ride on a stranger willing to help. Circumstances do not seem to be dire. So, I just shake my head and say "I am sorry!" and roll up my window. Her face disappears into the auto and I look around to check whether the light has changed. It has not.

In the background of raindrops falling on my car roof, I think about whether I did the right thing. She did seem sweet, after all.


(To be continued)

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