Dilemma

These days, I measure distance with music. Worli Sea Face is 'Sotta Sotta Nanayidhu Taj Mahal' thrice on repeat from home. I find myself looking up in search of rain laden clouds. This morning, while the shades greyed out the bright blue sky, I met the cool breeze with a "Rain" playlist - sensous and slow. My nose searched for the wet hot smell of the passionate embrace of clay and rain. All that reached me was the smell of the open drain running parallel to the rail tracks. At Worli Sea Face, the dark brooding horizon meets garbage right below the parapet and the sigh of comfort turns to a retch. I mute myself in disbelief. The city no longer makes me laugh. Like a Yash Chopra movie, the people here are cosmetic, made up, unreal and fast. The enchantress cannot seem to hold me in her grasp anymore. My heart sinks at the sight of the sea of heads. The Mumbai local train that once embraced me with their music and breeze now spell sweat, grime and the never ending grind of everyday life. This is a city of cliches, of crowded malls, multiplexes, cars, traffic, forgetful and forgettable.

I want the warm stupor of hot afternoons, the curtains that keep the heat and dust off, dancing to the breeze and letting the sun rays play hide and seek on the mosaic. I want to feel the warmth of clothes freshly dried on long clothes-lines and piled up on the bed, the wrinkles waiting to be folded. I want arguments over crossword during evening canteen. I want pyjamas and bathroom slippers on me, for whole days. I want to retreat into the circle of a reading lamp, for entire nights. I want a library that smells of old paper. I want long walks without meeting a soul for hours, midnight romps with the "wing" and common room TV. I want everything that Mumbai can never be.

Is this reason enough to escape to the mountains and rain for two years?