I’m stuck in traffic at Haji Ali. I can feel beads of sweat fall down my back against the leather seat of the car. I get car sick when I read so I start thinking instead. I thought about how Bombay is experienced in so many different ways. I have seen it through two of those lenses: as a local and as a tourist. These contrasting experiences reminded me of an immersive sensory exhibit at the Tate Modern by Olafur Elliasson. In one installation we were blinded by thick smog and had to walk through a tunnel to find our way out and in another, we walked under a light rain that created rainbows around the room. Each installation was perceived and experienced by everyone in a different way.
Some experienced bliss, others fear.
Bombay, home to the ‘too busy to give a damn’. Where people come to hustle and most dreams arrive only to die a slow, unsurprising death. A city of tourists, learners, dancers, corrupt politicians, artists, wannabe actors, doctors, expats and street cleaners. A melting pot, spicy, sweet, sticky and a little bitter, with everyone competing to grab the stirrer. Bombay is where people come to race against the clock, to test themselves and reach their limit before they break. The city can be ruthless, unforgiving and greedy but also lively and intriguing; full of secrets.
I was born and raised in Bombay and only ever left to go study at a university in London. I now visit home, pulling along a suitcase filled with clothes, shoes and books. Because I never unpack, I end up living out of my suitcase which usually lies on the floor of the room. The room I grew up in. The same walls that heard the childish conversations I had with my first boyfriend and all the episodes of 90210 that I binge-watched when I was supposed to be doing my homework.
I always enter the room with a dated return ticket set for my departure.
On my visits back home I am always busy. I spend time with family, see friends, go out and spend a lot of time driving around the city. It always feels like time is running out and I am in ‘what would you do today if it was your last day’ mode. It is almost as though school did not permit me the luxury of time to explore and observe my city. I didn’t have time to admire its curves and rough edges that are interlaced with the beauty of the sea and the protection of the warm humid air.
Experiencing Bombay as a tourist means you see a city filled with busy people trying to move through crowded spaces to get to important places. As a tourist you can step back and float around in your bubble while others are sweating it out and trying to make enough money to quench their thirst and satisfy their hunger. You know things happen, but your brain chooses to be ignorant to stay in ‘vacay mode’. I’ve felt like this many times, flying in and out of Bombay’s international airport. Arriving with the sole purpose of taking a break, catching up with those I love, satisfying my hunger with some of my favourite food and flying back out to get back to real life: studying, university and trying to live like a London local.
It is the privilege of choice that permits this dual experience of the city. I am able to live at home but also explore the sights. I can go to cinemas but will always know my way around the city well enough so I am not lost.
“Shut up” I mouth to the lady in the car behind me. The light has only just turned green but she is honking away.I’m going, i'm going! I slowly speed up. I check the ETA and it now says 15 minutes. Re-routing.
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