Skip to main content

Bidding Adieu to a Part of Me

     It was easier to bid the rustic streets of Bibvewadi a final farewell, than I’d previously thought. The ecstasy of finally being able to head home for good has pervaded every bout of separation anxiety that I might have felt for leaving the city of the Dagdusheth Halwai Ganpati. There will be no Mondays to feel glum about, for at 6 am then I’ll be fast asleep under my covers instead of boarding a Shivneri to Swargate. The Mumbai-Pune Express Highway will not be treaded that often, only to make way for a new path, a new journey, and an even greater new destination.
     Life has changed drastically over the last 4 years, and so have I, in terms of appearance, conduct and intellect. As I've transformed from a clueless nerd of 18 to a focussed itinerant of 21, I've realized how much I've learnt from the situations I've faced and the people I've met. Friendships were formed, broken, forgotten, rejoined, nurtured and cherished over the last 4 years, but every relation has been such a hothouse in my process of learning, which I’m sure, would not have taken place had I spent the same time at home.

      As I look beyond my window I see everything fall behind at such a high speed, and I cannot help but think of it as a perfect metaphor for this very juncture of life. Every single incident seems now like a fleeting moment which I cannot grab even if I want to. I’m reminded of the novelty of freshman year, the frustration but eventual epiphany of sophomore year, the apathy and caffeine induced nights of junior year and the mindless chaos of senior year.

      Toying with the idea of how differently things would've turned out had I met different people,made different choices, may be lived a little differently, won’t really help me now. Things form and fall apart only to make way for newer, better things. I have no regrets, no unfulfilled aspirations, and absolutely no sorrow that I will no longer be seeing Chitaleland and its people. It’s only a matter of time until life gives me a shot at another rendezvous and we shall meet again. The lessons I have learnt, staying in the land of the Mula-Mutha will stay with me forever, and even if I don’t miss the time I spent here, I will surely miss the people I spent that very time with.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Howard Moskowitz and Spaghetti Sauce

     What is happiness? How is it different from the other feelings we get? Why do different things make different people happy in different situations? As for me, enthralling my readers with my writings makes me happy. For you, may be, your favourite dish served hot in front of you makes you happy. Speaking of food, I’m sure you can recollect twirling those long strands of spaghetti in your fork and savouring them with the zesty sauce that comes with it. So what I am going to talk about today is a little different from what I’ve talked about before - the reinvention of spaghetti sauce. This is credited to the famous American market researcher and psychophysicist – Dr. Howard Moskowitz.      A doctorate from Harvard University, Dr. Moskowitz had a consulting business in White Plains, New York, and one of his very first clients was Pepsi, back in the early 70s. This was a time, when the sugar substitute – aspartame was getting increasingly pop...
4 comments
Read more

The Krishna Way of Life

     Over the last 24 hours there has been an endless din all over the city. Hooligans clad in t-shirts branded with faces of well-fed politicians are zooming all around town on their Yamahas and Pulsars, hooting at women and blowing small trumpets as they go. They call themselves 'Govindas'. Today is possibly the only day besides Ganpati visarjan that offices all over the city specially allow their employees to leave early. The otherwise ordinary town-squares of Mumbai are decorated with huge banners, laden with loud speakers and bustling with people today, "celebrating" the birth of one of the most revered deities by Hindus the world over - Lord Krishna. I am not going to assert his existence with this piece, nor am I going to doubt it, but if you come to think about it, there is a great deal associated with this dark-skinned God than meets the eye.            Over 5000 years ago,  on the  ashtami , eighth day...
Post a Comment
Read more

1995 - Where It All Began

     Victor Khambatta is a dangerous man. More dangerous than his father, Feroze. At only 30 years of age, his demeanour is intimidating. His henchmen have instilled terror in the deepest locales of Mumbai, and extortion, kidnappings and murders run rampant in his name. Even his gangster father fears his audacious moves. But sadly, there is not one strong evidence to put him behind bars. As the city and its protectors grow more and more scared of his power, he grows mightier with every passing day. All hope seems lost, but there are still some of us who refuse to acknowledge his victory, and his clout does not faze our efforts to pin him to the ground and bring him to justice.      The year is 1995. The Anti-Crime Squad of Mumbai, even in times of corruption, and obscurity, is doing its best to ward off Khambatta's activities and foil his attempts to become the uncrowned King of organised crime in the city, which is a part of his grand plan,...
2 comments
Read more