Winter has fallen in love with Mumbai. She just will not pack her bags and leave. Of course, no one wants her to leave. All we want her to do is stop embracing us so often. If she just stays and wanders around Mumbai, we'll be more than glad. She did that every year. However, this year she decides to show how passionate she is about Mumbai and its citizens.
So she dresses up in the breeze that flutters off Carter Road and Band Stand and sashays to the South. She likes the Queen's necklace. The glitter excites her, the sparkle dazzles her, and her breath nears the glamour of the lights. The yellow jewels atop those stands off Nariman Drive transfix her and she lets loose chilly icy sighs across Marine Lines. The sighs climb on to the trains and freeze the denizens on board. The denizens, in turn, freeze their liking for Winter and wish she just stop her antics.
But she will not. She smiles and insists she's a lovely lady to walk with. But no one smiles when she says so. They had rather not hear her say a word. For when she does, there's no respite from the frost that insists that we stay in bed, wrapped under those blankets and not go work. But work we have to, or else money refuses to make love to our bank accounts.
So we just have to tolerate Winter's love affair with the city and go about ours.
I hate the affair I am in. It leads me out to Andheri station early in the morn, shows me how crowds love to jostle around, and makes me jostle into a bus as well. The bus you see doesn't want to talk to me nor am I interested in talking to it either. We know each other only because we have work with each other: I allow the bus to pick me up and the bus allows me to get out at my workplace. Other than that, we never interact. That suits me for I have no time to waste in the morn. I have work to do.
Work you see loves my attention. After all, she began this affair. I did not know her, but she got to know me. I did not love her, but she did love me. Well, I loved her for a while, and now I hate her all the while. However, she does not seem hell bent on returning that emotion. Nor can I call the affair off.
You see, she's rich. She has a lot of money. I need that bloody money. I need it to buy, to spend, and then look bored. And once I am bored, I need cash to spend, to buy, to date, and be bored again. She knows my needs. And so, when I am all set to say it's over, she show me some more of those notes with stamps of dead freedom fighters and entices me all over again and makes me stay.
Stay I do. After all, I haven't anyone else to woo. This she uses to the best of her advantage and makes me slog a little more than usual. However, I think I have had enough. I think I might just tell her one fine sophisticated day that yes, I have had enough. As she hears that and stands or sits in shock, I might even add that I care not for her anymore. And by the time she faints, I will have walked out of the door and taken the train to a faraway land that invites me to peace and serenity.
The question is: when will I think I have had enough?
So she dresses up in the breeze that flutters off Carter Road and Band Stand and sashays to the South. She likes the Queen's necklace. The glitter excites her, the sparkle dazzles her, and her breath nears the glamour of the lights. The yellow jewels atop those stands off Nariman Drive transfix her and she lets loose chilly icy sighs across Marine Lines. The sighs climb on to the trains and freeze the denizens on board. The denizens, in turn, freeze their liking for Winter and wish she just stop her antics.
But she will not. She smiles and insists she's a lovely lady to walk with. But no one smiles when she says so. They had rather not hear her say a word. For when she does, there's no respite from the frost that insists that we stay in bed, wrapped under those blankets and not go work. But work we have to, or else money refuses to make love to our bank accounts.
So we just have to tolerate Winter's love affair with the city and go about ours.
I hate the affair I am in. It leads me out to Andheri station early in the morn, shows me how crowds love to jostle around, and makes me jostle into a bus as well. The bus you see doesn't want to talk to me nor am I interested in talking to it either. We know each other only because we have work with each other: I allow the bus to pick me up and the bus allows me to get out at my workplace. Other than that, we never interact. That suits me for I have no time to waste in the morn. I have work to do.
Work you see loves my attention. After all, she began this affair. I did not know her, but she got to know me. I did not love her, but she did love me. Well, I loved her for a while, and now I hate her all the while. However, she does not seem hell bent on returning that emotion. Nor can I call the affair off.
You see, she's rich. She has a lot of money. I need that bloody money. I need it to buy, to spend, and then look bored. And once I am bored, I need cash to spend, to buy, to date, and be bored again. She knows my needs. And so, when I am all set to say it's over, she show me some more of those notes with stamps of dead freedom fighters and entices me all over again and makes me stay.
Stay I do. After all, I haven't anyone else to woo. This she uses to the best of her advantage and makes me slog a little more than usual. However, I think I have had enough. I think I might just tell her one fine sophisticated day that yes, I have had enough. As she hears that and stands or sits in shock, I might even add that I care not for her anymore. And by the time she faints, I will have walked out of the door and taken the train to a faraway land that invites me to peace and serenity.
The question is: when will I think I have had enough?
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