Mumbai in July is no different than Venice and last Saturday it was raining like cats and dogs. It had been a typically crazy and hectic week at work. I needed a massage really bad. So, I braved the weather and reached Sukho Thai’s centre at High Street Phoenix Mall in Lower Parel, on a rain-drenched evening.
Last night, I was watching Sex and the City: The Movie (2008), well, for the 42nd time, and of course I drew a parallel. When Carrie Bradshaw’s Vogue Editor talked about “The last single girl” photo shoot featuring Carrie in various designer wedding dresses, me, while sipping my cheap beer (month end plus just quit my cushy job) exclaimed to myself, “Mm hmm, I know exactly what you mean, girl.” Only difference being, she was a 40-year-old bride, and I am 28. But hello? That’s New York and this is Bombay. It’s only fair.
Now if there’s anything that’s exactly like SATC in my life it’s the fact that I lucked out in my girlfriends department. I’ve my own set of Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte, even though they’re physically not here with me in Manhattan aka Mumbai.
The most heartwarming and incredible thing happened right now. On my way back home in the auto, got stuck in traffic and rains. And while on other days, it takes around 100 bucks, today the meter read Rs 194. I was obviously a little irritated since it took way longer than usual for me to reach home. Continue reading
They had met after ages. She had come down to Bombay after almost a year and a half. But it felt like just yesterday. It always feels like just yesterday. They pick up from where they leave it. Each time. Or sometimes, they start afresh.
Smoke. Loud music. Hazy lights.
They were standing in one corner of the club, giggling and guzzling down beer. Her eyes shone like a bright star. The multicolored lights created abstract patterns on her face. He looked into her kaleidoscope eyes. Continue reading
It was pretty much out-of-the-blue. The opportunity. I never win anything. Especially, these online competitions. But, I finally did. I was one of the two lucky winners of a Twitter contest and I won myself a complimentary buffet lunch cum spa in this cozy restaurant called ‘Out of the Blue’ in Bandra. Irony, yes? I know. Continue reading
“Oh, come on. We don’t have much time. Half an hour. Let’s finish this!” she giggled.
It was a cool winter evening in Bombay. The dark, small, yet cosy Café Leopold had more foreigners than Indians, sitting, talking, drinking and laughing.
They sat on one small table facing each other. There was a huge beer tower kept between them. As they kept guzzling down the beer, conversations kept flowing. Continue reading
So, this is one movie that I honestly was looking forward to, for a very long time. You know, the kind of movie you are sure will take your breath away and keep you at the edge of the seat? That. But, I fell flat on my face after watching it. The most disappointing movie of 2012, in my opinion, because I had zero expectations from other flicks, so they were a welcome surprise, like ‘Barfi’ or even a ‘Gangs of Wasseypur’. But I had such tall expectations from Reema Kagti’s ‘Talaash: The answer lies within’, that I was left with a vacuum and felt like a sore thumb.
It was raining incessantly. Bombay rains. They never stop. They are unusually white and misty. It blurs your vision. Makes you dizzy if you stare outside for too long.
I was perched on top of the window seal of my little rented Borivali apartment, and gazing outside. There was a smoke lit up, and I was puffing absent-mindedly. He creased his forehead and gave me a disapproving look and went back to photoshopping photographs on his laptop, as I threw my head back and laughed.
All this looks like just yesterday, when I first shifted to Bombay. Continue reading
I met you yesterday. After an entire light year. You still smile your glittery sunshine half-smiles, and strangely, I still peep at you through the velvety curtains of faked bitterness and pique. I still stand on my toes to reach out for your curls and ruffle them. Run my fingers through them to smoothen it. You still pull my hand tightly and make me walk on the ‘right side of the road’. We still can’t hate each other. We giggle and then we cry, and then we hug like we have never hugged before. It’s like a vicious cycle. I was there by the sea side yesterday. You were there too. So was the Santa cap. And the tears. And the laughter. And Christmas. Love fools that we are. And shall always remain so. One year has passed by since last Christmas. Feels like eternity.
He is from Bombay.
She is from Calcutta.
She thinks he is a ‘kid’, because he is younger to her
He hates being called a ‘bachcha’.