Diasporic Angst...

I remember the first time I went back to Bombay in June 2004 - my heart was singing from the moment we crossed the toll naka in Vashi, my eyes soaking in the sights of the familiar roads, rolling down the windows to take deep, gulping breaths of that salty wind. It was the same each and every time I disembarked from the plane on my way back home from Germany/France. Muggy, disgustingly hot even in the middle of the night or not, breathing in the air of Tinsel Town put a spring in my step. Bombay, I have always maintained, has a unique smell that only a true blue Bombayite can appreciate. My trips to Bombay decreased in frequency over the years, but the feeling of going back home everytime didn't change...till this time.

This time, for the first time, I felt out of place. The humidity and heat made me feel almost sick the first evening - the squalor and dirtiness of the streets made me wonder when the city had turned into a gigantic garbage dump - the smell pervading the streets made me screw up my nose in disgust - the ambitious metro project which is being awaited eagerly by everybody struck me as a huge eyesore. Of course work is still under way and what I saw of it, was just dug up roads, leading to mucky roads and massive traffic confusion, but it hasn't appealed yet. The worst was the feeling that I no longer recognise the city. The shopping centers and malls cropping up at every corner make me feel rather lost, when I can't locate the familiar landmarks.

Yet, I can not deny that the city still rocks my boat, like little else. Is it merely because nothing better exists or because my city truly does rock, mugginess, squalor et al?