Attachments

Chapter 1

It was a warm morning in Mumbai. The sun had hardly illuminated the sky when I hopped out of the packed train, onto the crowded platform, where people raced in and out of the long trains with sleepiness in their eyes and tiredness on their faces. I clung onto my handbag's strap and tightened my grip around the handle of my trolley luggage, and looked around in nervousness; I wondered how I'd squeeze my way through the crowd and find a way out. I didn't want to move from where I stood because I was scared I'd bump into someone, or something. The world seemed to rush past me, right before my sleepy eyes, in full speed; like someone had pressed the fast forward button. The odor in the air evoked the unpleasantness in me, and the warmth which groped me tight forced beads of sweat to trickle down my face. It was unwelcoming and daunting that I felt the desperate urge to take the train back to Surat. "Excuse me!", a loud voice emerged from behind me, which made me turn back around. "Move!", a man, who stood right behind me, rudely ordered, and hesitantly, I shuffled to my side.

While blindly shuffling to the side in a rush, I bumped into an old-lady, who ended up dropping her purse on the ground. "Are you blind?!", the old-lady shakily scolded, and I stared at her, utterly terrified. "I'm-I'm sorry", I said, blankly, as she pinned me down with a monstrous glare. "What are you looking at? Pick it up!", she demanded, and without sparing a second to waste, I bent down and collected her bank notes. "I'm sorry, ma'am", I apologized, breathlessly, and helped her arrange her money inside her worn-out purse. I watched her stagger her way forward, and struggle to hop onto the train. I shuffled my feet towards her, and cleared my throat, awkwardly, catching her attention. "May I help you?", I offered, and extended my hand forward. Her round, wrinkled eyes fell on my open palm and a small smile stretched on her thin lips, which in turn brought a smile on my face. It took a moment for her to keep her shaky hand over mine, and I held it tight, helping her step up and get inside the trained, crammed with people. The old-lady stood on the edge of the train, blocking everyone's way, and dug her purse with an intense look of focus on her face. Seconds later, she fished out a set of change money and held it out towards me. "God bless you", she smiled, kindly, and I simply stared at the banknotes, in dilemma. "It's a token of love, take it", she insisted, and I took it from her, without arguing. "Thank you", I whispered, inaudibly, and beamed at the lady, who waved at me before disappearing deep inside the train. I held the crushed banknotes, which summed up to a hundred Rupees, and looked down at it, feeling a sense of contentment empty into my heart. That marked my, 'Welcome to Mumbai' moment and it was a beautiful one.

♥

I stood to my ground, somewhere near a taxi-stand, and gazed at the morning sky, which changed shades and intensified in colour, as the sun ascended up the sky in slow motion and spread its light all over. Splashed on the canvas-like sky were colours in beautiful shades of pastel, ones I'd never laid my eyes on before. A length of faded baby blue stretched across the whole sky, filled with incomplete whirlpools of pastel pink and imperfect lines of light yellowish-orange. The colours were the ones money couldn't buy, and talent couldn't recreate; it was a one-time thing only God could do, I believed. Minutes later, the sun raced up the morning sky, forcing the crescent-shaped moon to merge with the sky and fade away. The light which emerged from the pale yellow sun darkened and intensified the colours that painted the sky; it eliminated the traces of pink and yellow, and allowed a prominent shade of blue to dominate the whole sky. Changes do take time and demand truckloads of patience, but in the end, everything is going to be worth it for the beauty of the moment would wipe all the negativity away. The time between the sun's journey right from the bottom of the sky to the top was enough, more than enough, for a connection to spark between me and the City of Dreams and breathe life into the eagerness in me. I couldn't wait to know what Mumbai had in store!

I dumped my belongings inside the boot of a bright yellow taxi, and slid inside the backseat, while digging my handbag for a piece of paper, on which my maternal Aunt had penned down the address of the apartment she rented out for me. "This location, Bhaiya", I said, and held out the paper towards him, once I unfolded it. "New to Mumbai?", he looked at me, through the rear-view mirror, and I nodded in agreement. Without uttering another word, he drove away from the taxi-stand and I slumped back on the car-seat, staring out of the window. I noticed and paid attention to every little movement on the wide roads of Mumbai; the crowd, the rush, and the liveliness was exhilarating. Mumbai made me feel alive, even after an unendingly long train journey from Gujarat. I was so pumped and energetic that I felt I could get through the next ten days in Mumbai, without sleeping. The city radiated positive energy, and it was hard not to feel it. I rolled down the window, and untied my hair out of the knotted bun, allowing the gentle breeze to play with the long strands of my hair. The air strongly smelt of sea and cardamom tea; it filled me with freshness and awakened the hunger in me, at once.

Just when Mumbai began leaving a mark of itself on my soul, an incoming call from my mom disrupted the ongoing romance between me and the city. "Hello, mom!", I elatedly exclaimed into the phone, and rolled the window back up. "Dityaa, did you reach Mumbai? I haven't slept since the time you left. You reached, right? Where are you now?", mom bombarded me with questions, and that was expected. "I've reached, and now I'm on my way to the apartment Shashi Aunty rented for me. Calm down, everything is working out well for me at the moment", I answered. "Thank God", mom exhaled in relief, and I smile, studying my freshly painted nails. "Once you reach the apartment, take pictures of it and send it to us, okay? I want to make sure that it's a good apartment. Shashi said it is a good one, and the girls who live there are decent, but I need to double-check", mom said.

Shashi Aunty - my mom's own sister - took the responsibility to hunting an apartment for me in Mumbai, when she happened to get in touch with a friend of hers, whose daughter lived in a sharing-apartment in Mumbai with two other girls. Initially, I was completely against the idea of sharing an apartment with three unknown girls because I was certain I wouldn't fit in, but I couldn't protest because I had never lived on my own before and there was no way I could handle the expenses, single-handedly. Being someone who feared darkness, the thought of living all alone in an apartment at night forced shivers to trickle down my spine, when Shashi Aunty talked about the chances of sudden power-cuts. It wasn't too hard for Shashi Aunty and my mom to convince me to agree to the deal.

"And don't forget to call Darshan", mom reminded me for the gazillionth time in a gap of a month. "Usha Di called and she told me that she talked about you to Darshan last week. He said he's willing to help you find a job, because he has contacts on his list. He is a family friend and he will help you, don't worry", mom ran through her dialogues and I listened on, silently and uninterestedly. "Mom, I'm in Mumbai to make a living and I want to take a stand on my own. I don't want to depend on anyone for this. How many times do I tell you?", I told her in sheer annoyance. "But Darshan has influence; he'll make things work for you quicker than ever!", mom attempted to explain the 'advantage' of reaching out to a businessman, who was also well-known singer with a humongous fan-base and volumes of fame, but I wasn't convinced. "Why are you ashamed of taking help from him? He is our family friend", mom stated, and I grunted loudly, forcing the taxi-driver to look at me. "I haven't talked to him in...over ten years! He's not a family friend anymore, mom. He is a stranger...or maybe, a celebrity and I'm not going to take his help, simple!", I stubbornly said. "But he wants to help you", mom argued. "Probably because all of you, Aunties, ganged up and emotionally blackmailed him, as always. Okay, I need to go. My stop is here. Bye", I said in one breath. "Dityaa, listen-", mom tried to talk. "Bye. Bye. Bye!", I uttered at a stretch and cut the call. "Your stop is twenty minutes away from here, Madam", the taxi-driver sounded confused and I only flashed a smile at him. He didn't understand the strategy; maybe because he didn't have an annoying mom.