Bombay Unplugged

Bohot Zyada Hasti Hai

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" Rhythmic contraction and relaxation of the auricular and ventricular walls of the heart " , a heart beat . Heart beats and pupil dilations , strangely are determinants of affection . Atleast in her world , they were . The story of a tiny , sassy and breath taking Mumbaikar filled with unparagoned passion , learning the art of love , breaking many hearts but patching way more .

In her , was an entire world of fiction . Not the barbie , power puff fiction but passionate , mature fiction . She brought in , a strange air of poised excitement and vulnerability . Vulnerable not for herself , but for the guys , who had to control their urge even after her walking past in her own world of strange freedom . Freedom not of controlling herself , but involuntarily controlling the lives of every sapien close to her by mere words . What was so different ? At a tender age with an over exposed history and a daunting past , she realised that there was nothing to lose . Then on , there was no looking back . At an age like hers , there were many who were incessantly demanding but she was the only probable one who derived all her demands ;  diligently , unfailingly . What was so different ? Lips like scissors , tearing apart everything in the way . Nails like claws , best used when fierce . Face like a pop star , power of a fiery prisoner . Physically tiny , verbally supreme . Supreme not by abusing , but by sarcasm as smooth as a Matt sports car . Sports car not the one racing through to finish first , but the one destroying each and every competitor , slowly , tactfully and eventually reigning powerful . What did she have in her ? Even the parents confuzzled over the very question . This Bandra brought up girl had something in her , it was different on different levels .
The unbelievable confidence to predict human tendencies , the cheeky ignorance , the cute face to defy all such ' rumours. ' Every parents favourite , every new comers dream , What did she have in her ? Well , all she had was a pure heart . A heart , although an immature one , perfect to understand love and planned to master in the very subject . From sleek photographs , to difficult pirouettes , to a mesmerising voice and a hypnotising figure . What did she not have ?
She was streetsmart , quick witted ; a perfect Jugaadu Mumbaikar . She belonged to an esteemed school , and headed the cultural department for the same . A bioscope in herself , she excelled at all performing arts , a true gift she was . A born performer , a vociferous leader and a true patriot . The passion for her school over riding every other feeling flowing in her blood , she was the Principals favourite , the blue eyed girl , the best . Life was sorted , uncaring about academics , she pledged to raise the bars of culture and talent to an unmatchable level . Auditions , practices , it was all routine . She'd leave her house by 6 AM , reach back by 2 in the afternoon , have lunch and set off again . This time , returning not before 11 , late in the night . The parents , so proud , so happy , seeing their daughter live life in her own fanciful way , gave her the necessary moral support and freedom to allow her to pursue and practice her dreams . They were faithful people , all of them . They knew no alternative to effort , succeeding in almost all their endeavours . Lately , band members of the school along with her , the drummer and vocalist were recording a piece in a studio in Churchgate , quite far from home .
She had her deadlines , it was quarter to 11 , she left .
And there began , the journey of an over mature brilliantly creative girl turning into a vulnerable directionless commoner ( in her terms , as good as dead ) and finally roping herself back to being a mature , tougher , more intimidating , attractive , unbreakable version of herself .
Shit , Happened .
Now all set and done , what exactly happened ? How did the queen herself turn to a mentally nomadic widow and then pull back straight to her throne ? It wasn't all so intense , it was a transformation from strong - weak n vulnerable - stronger , it was the year that taught her the most . What was it that had the 'balls' to cause this .
Was it frivolity , was it trouble ? Was it recklessness , was it her nature ? Was it love , was it grief ? Was it a hopeless end , was it an endless hope ? Was it bad , was it for the better ?
It was incorrigibility , all set and done .
She left the studio , caught a taxi , reached Churchgate station and boarded a train towards Bandra .
As the wheels of the train moved , the volume of her earphones increased and she was in her own world within a span of seconds , jamming to her very own tunes . The worried parents kept calling her , she kept hanging up . She switched on her live location temporarily , to permanently mute the parents . It worked . The train however , due to technical difficulties and managerial inefficiency , stopped a mile before Mahim station out of nowhere , in the middle of nowhere . She was smart , she boarded the men's compartment , as the ladies coach was isolated after 10 . The men , as the halt grew longer , began disembarking the train and covering the last mile on foot . The crowd kept getting lesser , the tension kept rising . She thought of jumping off and walking , but the idea of her parents reaction to this stunt of hers scared the breath out of her . She didn't want to be grounded , she had 7 fests lined up over the weekends in different schools . She waited , she obeyed her principles . Finally it was down to 4 people in the compartment , 3 men and her . As scared as a deer would be between a herd of cheetahs , she was still a stage actor . She acted like she owned them . She knew how to help herself out in such situations , she was faithful , remember ? It was a 2 v 1 now , 2 men standing and her , still listening to music . The parents were worried , they called , her battery died . Although a performer , she just couldn't keep her frustration to herself when the battery died . " Saala battery ko bhi abhi jaana tha . " The conclusion of the battery , commenced the most difficult phase of her life . The train was empty , it was just the 3 of them . She smiled at one man , acting as innocent as could possibly seem , and he returned the favour . He smiled back . The nastiest , creepiest smile .  " Bahut Zyada Hasti Hai Saali " they were men after all , she was a young girl after all . Her ripped jeans , their naked minds , it fit . She tried to scream out for help , but her mouth was tied with a handkerchief to protect just the same mercy call . To add on to the agony , the lights of the train went . Mumbai , while sleeping soundly , was losing its most incredible teen in quite the unsound manner . With red threads on their hand , huge tikkas on their foreheads , pictures of the lord himself in their wallets , how did these scoundrels even think of such a heinous crime ? Such strong believers of Hindu gods , such faithful and reputed men by looks  , how could they ? Well suited from the outside , unzipped from the within . Well polished from the outside , reckless from within .
She was a fighter though , she bit , she clawed , she punched , she kicked . With the amount of anger she had in her , from the last defeat to her arch rival in the inter school drama event , she could take on 20 like them . She tried to make it as difficult as she could for them , but in the end , she was 5 feet 5 inches , 40 kilos , what could she possibly do ? Fighting for her own survival , it was the toughest night of her life . They succeeded though , the men . They tied her up with their belts . Just as they could place a finger on her , the lights came on . Although scared , she found it amusing . " Bahut Zyada Hasti Hai Saali " , he said again . She gathered the guts , she spat on one of their faces kicked the other right in the place where it hurt the most .
This just fed their anger , they decided on humiliating regardless of the illumination . The one who gave the smile , began .
As he started ripping off the jeans from its rips , the train started moving . She smiled again . This agitated them , but frightened them more . It was only one mile , the train parked at Mahim in no time . Ten railway officers , a search team and her parents , everyone waiting eagerly for the train , were shocked on witnessing what had happened .
The men were caught , the daughter met her parents , live location was a saviour .
Nothing , apart from everything  changed from when she started the journey and how she ended it .
The window was the same , the music was the same . It wasn't her anymore though . She lost herself through these 30 minutes . Half an hour of fighting , physically to protect her dignity and chastity . Half an hour of torture . Technical problems , no fear of the law , this is what led to all sorts of crimes in Mumbai . She was a performer though , she gathered the guts , she recovered , she came back . A Stronger than ever version of herself , a famous one for that matter , she if not previously was now surely the most well known teen across the city . She couldn't face the world quite soon though , she couldn't travel on trains , she couldn't step out after 11 . It all took time , she had lost a part of herself in that incident . Anyone would . She was called for an interview with the Times , on a women's day special . That's when she realised how the low lives had had such a high intensity impact on her & even though she won , she lost & let them win by not being herself . She was a badass mumbaikar , she did stand up on that podium , she did take centre stage once again . She began " Bahut Zyada Hasti Hoon Na Mai .... " , the speech ended , Mumbai applauded its youngest brave heart , India had a new inspiration .