An ode to my city...

It helped being there than here. Being up front, than viewing it from a distance. Knowing I was not directly affected and yet thinking how well I was lying to myself, by saying just that.
Every Mumbaikar, wherever he/ she was in the world, was broken-hearted last Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday. And Saturday. And Sunday.....and even today as I type this.
Wednesday night, as the attacks started, Mumbai went to war. For the next 60 hours, I sat; one eye glued to the television, the other to the newspapers. With family, making calls to everyone I knew in the city, now bereaving, now smirking at some, with multiple lumps in my throat.
We were on vacation in a city we love. Where we grew up, where time stands still even today, each time we go visit her. Which is our first home. And perhaps, one, where we will return to grow old in.
The plan was to go to the "coolest" places in the city; to see how Mumbai was living it up, global style. Tiffins, Souk, Wasabi were on the 'to-check-out' list. Would or would not have happened, in the course of this tight trip back home, but they were places we wanted to go see. Re-living the old days by walking along Colaba causeway, was on the list; perhaps a chilled beer at Leopold too or maybe Cafe Mondegar. The somewhat veiled layer of contemporary art galleries in South Mumbai were to be visited; perhaps the only places on the list that got checked out and hence checked off.
All the rest, have been postponed. Almost indefinitely. Like the trip to the WTC towers, which never happened. And now never will.
Even as we hailed a taxi the next day, a few miles away from South Mumbai, I couldnt help but stare at the taxi-driver. And question his identity ? How would I know? On the highway, young Mumbai lads, rode their bikes, as always armed with backpacks. Why did some of those backpacks look bigger than the others? Cops strewn all over the city, looked like NSG's. Maharashtrian or North Indian, most had machine guns. What if these were just armed terrorists in disguise?Surely, its really easy to rent/ buy cop uniforms isnt it?
Life went on. Some obituaries were read, some just skimmed over. Its not often, a mom, a dad and a son die together or a husband-wife have a common obituary. Rarely do cremation grounds get over-packed.
Five star hotels in Mumbai are now beyond access to the common man, who could walk in and spend a few hours in the air-conditioned lobby to beat the sweltering heat outside. Pretending to be for a few moments, what he was not; he could once have strolled through their shopping arcades or had a coffee in their coffee shops, express his delightful voyeurism at the upper echelons of the city, live their lives.
Life will go on, even now. It will be filled with rage, desperation, vengeance and despair. It will also be filled with hope, revolution, resolution and perhaps change. The operative word of these times.
A snippet I read last week in the Times of India. A desperate relative of a businessman trapped in the Taj Hotel, called the hotel reception at 4 am, after failed attempts to reach the businessman's cell phone. Obviously not expecting a response and possibly thinking to himself, how silly he was being by even hoping for the same, he was shocked a few seconds later. A voice picked up the phone at the other end and replied "Good morning. This is the Taj Mahal Hotel. How may I help you?"

To Mumbai, with love.

So you think you know me?

Raga has this on her blog and she was right when she thought I would be very likely to respond;)
So here goes:

So you think you know me ?
Think again...........

1. What is your occupation right now?
Architect (Specialising in Airport and Transportation Design & Planning)
2. What color are your socks?
Sock-less at the moment;)
3. What are you listening to right now?
Khuda Jaane - Bachna Ae Haseeno
4. What was the last thing that you ate?
Upma - Home made!
5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Yes. Driven one for 3 years.
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Mommy
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
'Like' is understating it.
8. How old are you today?
29 today, 30 in 5 more days;)
9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Diving
10. What is your favorite drink?
Water - Ice cold!
11. Have you ever dyed your hair?
Yes. Various colours, at various points of time:)
12. Favorite food?
Daal-Chaawal.
13. What is the last movie you watched?
A Wednesday
14. Favorite day of the year?
October 2nd; the whole motherland celebrates it;)
15. How do you vent anger?
I have'nt been angry in a very long time now.
16. What was your favorite toy as a child?
The blackboard i scribbled on, while teaching my make-believe class.
17. What is your favorite season?
Monsoon in Mumbai; all of them in NYC.
18. Cherries or Blueberries?
Cherries.
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Sure.
20. Who is the most likely to respond?
Dont know.
21. Who is least likely to respond?
Most people I know:)
22. Living arrangements?
Simply phenomenal.
23. When was the last time you cried?
Dont remember the movie, but am sure it was while watching one.
24. What is on the floor of your closet?
Shelf.
25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
Not sending this to anyone.
26. What did you do last night?
Friend's birthday party/ Presidential debate/ Dinner with another set of friends...too many things to list here.
27. What are you most afraid of being lost?
Anyone from my innermost circle.
28. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?
Not a hamburger person.
29. Favorite dog breed(s):
None actually. Not a pet person.
30. Favorite day of the week?
Friday
31. How many states have you lived in?
4
32. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds any day:)
33. What is your favorite flower?
Rose!

Fall Street!

There was a strange lull all over. It was as if lifeless bodies moved around, floated on the streets, went from one place to another. A cloud of worry loomed all over the street. The big flag on the building, stagnated in the wind.
The morning rush seemed bleak, almost like a long weekend rush. Only hopeless instead of hopeful.
At lunch time, the overtly crowded restaurant, actually had available seating.
In the evening, as I walked out of work, in the distance, near the gold bollards, stood the camera men. Reporters in front of them, getting ready to narrate the streets biggest fall since 9/11. "Lets get out of here before they try to stop us and make us blurt out something by mistake" said a stock broker voice behind me. Before I could turn around to see his face, he slipped away.
A good friend jokingly texted " You guys should see if a street emp wants to sell his condo. I would think a lot more condos are on the market today". I smiled faintly and responded "Yah maybe" with half as much interest.

Wall Street is where I work. Spend a big part of my day everyday. And like in my previous work-hoods in the city, a part of me now belongs here too.
The bulls and the bears are unwell. The street is not itself today.
Hoping for it's quick recovery.

Get Well Soon, Wall!

My bike and I!

It was my bike, me and the streets of New York!

What started off as a mere excuse to accompany a friend, who wanted to learn biking, emerged as one of those random things in life, that make you reflect and say "I am glad I did it".

Summer Streets, was another successful endeavour on Mayor Bloomberg's behalf, to give back to the city, its streets. As an Urban Designer, I have always believed that a city lives in it's streets. Not in its buildings, not in it's museums, not even in it's restaurants or eateries or shops; but in it's streets. Where journeys take place, where strangers walk together; in transition.

For three Saturday's in August 2008, Park Avenue was closed from 7 am to 1 pm, to any vehicular traffic. Cars, buses and Vespa's gave way to runners, bikers, pedestrians, roller-bladers and tourists, who had the whole avenue to themselves. All the way up from the Civic Center near the Brooklyn Bridge to 72nd Street; into the park and back down again. An experiment in urban flow; another excuse to soak up a different avenue in the city, from a different avenue, on my bike.

It was the biggest block party I' ve ever seen. The 'Central Park-isation' of New York.

Runners training their 13 - 16 milers, as they approach their impending races; liberated bikers, who pedalled away at super speeds on a new route that did'nt go in circles, roller-bladers, with no cars to interrupt and of course, pedestrians, who got a kick out of loitering on an entire avenue assigned to them.

And among all of these, were us; my bike and I. Hand in hand, we sped up and down the avenue, taking in the sights, nodding at fellow-bikers, making sure we dont run down a runner or two with our enthusiastic pedalling. Bumping into several acquaintances, from old running clubs to new friend circles, as we rode all the way upto Central Park and then into it, re-living the good ol' days. A few miles ridden, a few hours spent, another memory in the city, made.

Looking forward to more Summer Saturdays in 2009:)

Sea...

I lived by the sea....
I miss it's vastness; it's unending expanse of water, in the distance, touching the horizon. That is where we drew the sun, everytime we drew a picture. Rising or setting, that is where it always was.
I now live by the river.....
It is unending too, albeit only along it's linearity. But along it's transverse-ity, it ends somewhere. Somewhere, where buildings rise. And where sometimes, buildings set. And in the far distance, bridges span; to reach out, to far-away land and bring it near.
The water is a little different too. It used to be greyish-blue in my sea, it is a brilliant blue in my river. It still dances and sways; frolics and laughs. It squeals and gushes, in waves and in sprays.
And I look at it everyday and think of the sea, that has followed me.
Across seven other seas, to live with me, here in my river.

And she's back.....

".....It's been almost half a year that I ve written on this blog. Let's just say life happened. Now that things are gradually settling down, I am going to try to get back...."

This was my draft post dated May 29th, 2008 which I never got to completing. Writer's block? Not really. More like the writer got blocked by everything else in life.
Some things took priority over others; what used to be a regular occurence before, took a backseat. New loves, new homes, new passions and newer avenues to explore. Some old things got left behind; going back to which, does'nt make sense anymore. Some others however, helplessly plead a re-turn.
There are too many updates of what happened in life since the last post on this blog. More races, more work, more friends, more socialising, more love, more travel, more study and a lot of growing up....The glass is more full than empty and that's how I ve come to like it now. Not enough time anymore to do a lot of things that I would like to, but that's when the '25th hour' will come in. 'Look for the 25th hour in the day' was an adage taught by an old professor; which now seems to gain importance more than ever before.
The city still buzzes and so do I, with it. Partly to blame for my incessant busy-ness. Together, we dance the time away. Still very much in love with each other as we were, even before I moved here and this became home. Still not seen enough of it, dont know when I ll be able to say I have. But who's complaining? There's a lifetime to explore!
To surmise; blocking a writer is wrong and I will try to not let that happen anymore. It's time to stop and as Mr. Davies' appeals; stand and stare. There's inspiration everywhere.
To look around and find that one moment, when life can let me breathe.....let me write....let me do, what I ve always loved doing.....speak through my prose.
Maybe just sometimes, some rare times albeit, life and the city can wait!