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“Baarikhar Rati Tumar Kobik Monot Porene Arundhati” (Translates to: “Arundhati,
do you remember your poet on a rainy night”).
It happens only once in
a blue moon that the lines from an Assamese poem or song strike such a chord. Probably
you need a rainy night for these lines to reverberate within you. Surrender
yourself to the rains – on a rainy Bombay night. In the country’s westernmost
end. The land where land ends and the vast sea begins.
Look around at the
Bandstand in Bandra. On one end you will see the sea. The never-ending darkness
it carries. You will see lovebirds chirping and holding hands merrily,
oblivious and unconcerned that is raining. It is 11 in the night. It is
weekend. And the city has just woken up from its week-long slumber. The gentle sea-breeze
will hit you on the face, soothe you and also shake you. Sea-breeze cocktailed
with doses of intoxication. Cans of alcohol and packets of cigarettes will seem
trivial? Only the deep sea can cause the effect. This is the land where land
ends and the vast sea begins.
This is the land where
millions of dreams get lost. Look around at the statues, inscriptions and finger-prints.
You will find the great Raj Kapoor standing and smiling in his “Mera Joota Hain Japani” attire. The man
who could dare to stand up against the conservative Indian society and set his
own everlasting trends. The “awara”
who could dare to strike his own dad when he realizes that the man is not worth
being his dad. The joker who could make you smile and laugh even when his own
world was getting shattered into pieces. The man who could direct a Bobby in a
bikini or a Ganga in a transparent white piece of cloth and still make the make
the Indian moral police respect his art. Millions come to this city, aspiring
to reign over the dream-world. And what happens? Get lost in the crowd of
billions, heavy traffic and terrible downpours. Not very far away, you can hear
a band performing. A young boy in his teens singing in his sublime, God-gifted
voice. What will you feel? Jealous – because you can never ever sing so well to
the Arundhati of your dreams. Respect – because the young boy deserves every
bit of it. This is the land where land ends and the vast sea begins.
And then you see her.
The Arundhati of dreams. Moving around gracefully. Did she look at you and
smile? Probably she did. For a moment your heart will leap with joy. She smiles
at you, she cares for you. The next moment you see a fancy limousine coming out
of the Taj Lands End hotel. The car stops in front of her. You can see the rich
and famous man coming out. He holds her hand, opens the car door for her. You
can take a quick glimpse at the car. You can hear wonderful music playing from
its imported music system. You will see bottles of expensive liquor near the
front seat. She gets into the limousine and goes away for a drive. What do they
do? Savor the pleasures of good music and expensive liquor in an imported
vehicle? Make love? You don’t deserve to know. You will never know. A pauper in
black shorts and torn slippers will never have the right to know what the
dreamy Arundhati does in the rich man’s limousine. The city of Bombay strikes
back. This is the world where a pauper can smile at his dream girl and see her
go out with the man from Lands End. This is the world where you will realize
your limits and your rights. You never have the right to know what happens in
the world of Lands End, fancy cars and imported wine. This is the world where
the slums of Dharavi and the Taj survive so close to each other. This is the land where land ends and the vast sea
begins.
