Almost 3 years back, when I shifted to Mumbai from Pune, I was not scared—I was excited. Because that’s who I am. Always excited about moving to a new place and exploring the people, food, and culture. And Mumbai, I bet, for everyone in this country who belongs to a Tier 3 city, is always a mystery they want to explore. It was the same for me. I made sure that I didn’t have any preconceived notions about the city. I arrived at my friend’s place, as I still had to find a place here in Mumbai. It was in Prabhadevi—South of Mumbai. Okay, geographically it is, but not sure if the elites of South Bombay would agree to having Prabhadevi as a part of their circle. The house-hunting was a struggle, but at the same time, that period at my friend’s place was extremely enjoyable.
After a lot of struggle, I found a place in this area known as Lokhandwala. I didn’t know it back then, that Lokhandwala is this fancy area where people from the entertainment industry reside—or I must say, people trying to break into the entertainment industry. And damn, that was right—so many good-looking people. I enjoyed my time in Lokhandwala. Lots of cats, wide roads, less traffic unlike other parts of Bombay. Other things I loved about Bombay in general: the people, the polite auto drivers, access to beaches, etc. I made new friends, explored new restaurants, had exposure to some great art forms.
But then, you have to survive. You have to go to work. That’s when Mumbai hits you. You need to get out of Lokhandwala. You might need to travel by crowded locals. You have to be in the traffic, with pathetic roads, horrendous pollution. And you have to do it in the scorching heat and non-stop rains. That’s when it hits you that maybe—maybe—this city sucks more out of you than it gives. It takes away time from you.
There’s a quote from Payal Kapadia’s All We Imagine As Light: “There’s an unspoken code in the city. Even if you live in a gutter, you are not allowed to get angry.” People call this the Spirit of Mumbai.
I don’t live in a gutter. I’m privileged enough to stay in Lokhandwala. But can I, for my entire life, and create that chamber for myself? No, I can’t. The rents are unaffordable. Construction is endless. Clean air is a dream. Roads are horrible. I feel angry. I should be allowed to—because I pay taxes. City of Dreams is becoming unlivable.
It’s the City of Illusions. You have to believe the illusions. Or else, you will go mad. The majority of people in Mumbai are believing in this illusion. They don’t have an option. It provides work. It provides money. It provides survival. Whatever this city sucks out of you is the subscription fee of this survival.
I, again being a privileged person compared to the majority of others, have an option to settle somewhere else. But will I? Maybe—when I stop believing in the illusions.