My Blind Date

I did not realize that dreams can come true until I stepped in from the tarmac into the slightly posh- better-than-the one-back-home airport in Bombay. It was pretty big and I conditioned my mind to enjoy every bit and minute of my brief holiday, thus making my pace moderately slow. But once I claimed my baggage, I realized I was in a hurry to step out and see for myself if it was all true- the magic that I have heard the city is.

I made my way out and as I did, a wave of fresh air blowing into the airport welcomed me. I saw through the glass, at the waiting area for arrival, a familiar figure leaning on a pillar. I stepped out, looking at the person, fidgeting with my phone to call him. My eyesight was slowly getting accustomed to the night outside and as I confirmed who I thought I was seeing, I smiled. For, he stood still, motionless, making no move, with a smile on his face, his smiling aloofness a dead giveaway of the much awaited moment that this was for the both of us. I walked deliberately, smiling more confidently as I walked upto him, slowly, enjoying the painful rush to be in his arms, again.

My first impression of the city was when he did not have to go through the harrowing experience of the “auto-savari”. They either came or they did not. But when they do, they do not claim half of your hard-earned life saving at the end of the ride. As we got off the airport road, we took right to enter the Western Express Highway. And he showed me my first glimpse of the infamous traffic jams. We cruised up and down along the valleyroads of Bombay. I craned up, peeping out of the auto, to catch the end of every towering building. He pointed out that I sure would look a bit crazy to an observant Mumbaikar outside. I wanted to savour every bit of my excitement of my first visit to the city, which could turn to be my home stay in a year’s time. But I couldn’t hold back much of the gush as I saw the first “double-decker”. 

“Don’t call it that. Call it the BEST. That’s what they are known to be, here”, he said.

My excitement given away so easily, he offered to take me for a ride on BEST one of these days

With random names thrown at me, I figured I might never be able to comprehend the size of the city, with its names and its direction. But what caught my attention was how people were on roads. No, it wasn’t the road-rage/rash, which is the first thing a newcomer would notice about my city, back home. What I observed and failed to understand was the absence of road rage despite the berserk behaviour of practically every person on the road – a bystander, a lone walker, a group of drunken friends, a hurried two-wheeler, a luxury driven Audi or a lethargic-yet-racy bus. They all were set about with a mind of their own. It was the heights of disorderlinesssurmounted by huge traffic. Yet, none of these people lost their cool. And where there is absence of road rage, I astonishingly found out the magnanimous size of road sense in each of these people. It only strengthened deeper when I saw an orderly single line of a queue in a bus stop we passed. He explained that that was the ‘system’ of waiting here. I thought he was kidding until I saw it happen repeatedly in every stop. That’s when I thought, this was the first ‘system’ that I saw in place, which could have only got better with practise in time.

As we neared our stop- IIT Bombay, we got off the Jogeshwari-Vikhroli link road and passed the huge L&T corner. We emerged out of it to a round about of a lake. And that’s when he showed me. The beautiful PowaiLake and the end of a expansive campus. ‘Hostel 13’, his haven, was visible from right over there. And like he pointed out, Hotel Renaissance looked to be strategically positioned in such a way that whenever you stood along the curving line of the lake, you were opposite to it.

For someone with less-than-average eyesight, I was disappointed at not being able to take in keen details of the place. And I realized this more as we turned around the corner to enter the magnificent campus. If I liked the long, wide, rambling roads of Mumbai with its numerous flyovers and bridges, I liked the roads inside Powai campus better. The coolness of the campus greeted me and I already loved the college for the importance they had given to the spread of colour green. We rode up and down along the smooth snake-like entwining road when he said, “Hold your breath. Wait for it”, and pointed to the left of me. And I saw the most beautiful landscape, between the interruptions of trees with the helpful intervention of speed breakers. The other side of Powai lake, only more splendid, rendered by the stretch of the lighted city in its sparkling glamour. And endless skyline, the Hiranandani gardens. I couldn’t get enough of it, already.

Just as we reached the hostel, he hurried me into getting ready. 
“Wear something classy”, he said. “And we need to leave ASAP. With no reservation made, Leopolds could get very crowded into the night.”

 I changed into a white dress with blue strap and made myself up, the best I could, in the little time I got. Leopolds demanded classy from Bombay, the city shouldn’t complain. Because the place deserved it, I thought.

We took the local from Kanjur Marg. He told me the train would be less crowded at that time, esp since we were moving against traffic. As we headed along, he told me the names of each station, with its significance. I had learnt to memorize it with time.

Kanjur Marh -> Vikhroli -> Ghatkopar -> Vidya Vihar -> Kurla -> Sion -> Matunga -> Dadar -> Parel -> Currey Road -> Chinchpokli -> Byculla -> Sandhurst Road -> Masjid. And, “Pudil station -> CST”

Colaba was nothing that I had imagined it to be. It was only better. It was there that I felt I truly was in Bombay. The huge wide roads, lit brightly by the plentiful streetlights and abundant shops, sprawled ahead of me, not in just parallel or perpendicular direction. There were roads all sides of me. It was only fairly late and the roads were decently crowded. Having taken a taxi from CST, we stopped right ahead of Leopolds only to hear his exclaim how crowded it was.

 “Lets take a walk around, I will show you Bademiyan”. And I relentlessly walked along in a road that would unmistakably get called “T.Nagar madhiri”, back home. Bademiyan came and went. We kept taking the road adjoining the other. Until we reached what looked like a wide-front of a dark alley. Before I could crane up fully to look at the building in front of me, I heard, “that’s the Taj. And that over there, is the Gateway.” I was hugely disappointed at what I had imagined would be the epic moments of unravelling Bombay- sad about how the moment went past me, so trivial. I saw that that Gateway seemed cordoned off for the night and I remarked to him on how I wish I could at least go to that area to catch the majestic front view of the Taj Mahal Palace. The fact that the pigeons were missing was another childish disappointment.

“Lets go refresh ourselves at the Taj.”

“ Is it allowed?”

“Sure. Why not?! We do it all the time.”

And I knew we needed to refresh because no matter how charming you look when you head out, after one journey in Mumbai Local, you need a shower, for sure.

We walked in, and it definitely dint look like a stroll. I saw him walk across the lobby all the way over to the lift. It left me wondering why they do not have a powder room at Level Zero. It was only when my head felt dizzy inside the lift owing to its speed, I noticed that we were headed to the 18th floor- the Roof Top.

The reservation was for a table for two, sea-facing and a cosy corner, lit by just one candle. I had only read of such experiences in fiction. And that’s exactly why I was rendered speechless for at least 20 minutes. When I could recover vaguely from the exuberant shock of what he had planned for my eve, I felt choked. I could only call him insanely crazy.

Admonishing my repeated protests of the extravagance that he planned out so perfectly for me, we ventured into a full 3-course meal; ending with only a criminally sinful chocolaty dessert. The Food (notice the capital ‘F’, coz that’s what it deserves) needs a separate page.

We took a taxi from the Taj; we had to hurry to the Marine Drive to celebrate with friends, a couple of birthdays at the stroke of 12. The Marine Drive was an expected surprise, a promise kept for my first night in Bombay. We reached at 11.55 PM, when my mom called. Dismissing the call within 2 minutes, we sat there, facing the sea. I could not see the end of it. Marine Drive certainly knew how to hold its victim captive.

As the clock struck twelve, he turned around and said, “Happy birthday”. I smiled and put head on his shoulders. He kissed me on the head and we continued to look out at the sea.

It was the best birthday that I had ever celebrated, made so with purpose and love, by the dearest person of my life, whom I cannot seem to love enough every growing day. – My fiancé.

- And that enthralling, beautiful night was only the first of many more to come in this magical city of Bombay.