The recent events in Mumbai are shattering. And closure of chemist shops at 6 p.m is another nail in the coffin. Mumbai is dead. Sadly, try no one is caring to revive it. Infra-structurally it was always a poor one, allergist but it more than made up that paucity by a liveliness, approved an electrifying energy and yes its indomitable spirit – which was not only about displaying resilience in times of trouble. It was a live breathing, energetic, vibrant and pulsating city.
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Finally,I found a house – albeit, a rented one, for now! But before I could reach here I had to undergo my share of the proverbial baptism by fire! My search for a decent house to purchase went up right up to mid-April, when panic set in. Time had run out -I had to vacate the previous one by the month-end, and I was nowhere close to selecting, leave alone starting the cumbersome paper-work. Before I left for Delhi for a short-trip, I zeroed-in on a nice rental accommodation. On return, I went to pay the advance when the owner…
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I am on a house-hunt. Again. Last week, my landlady dropped the bomb that they needed the house returned; and this, after their broker had lulled me into believing the lease will be renewed. Apparently, that’s not the case. This, when (after all my doubts) I had actually started to love my current pad. I requested for a three-month buffer, and immediately dialed my regular broker. He all but groaned though nevertheless promised to help; after all, that’s his business. I saw the first batch yesterday and like the previous two times, returned frustrated, grumpy & cribbing. Yesterday’s search added…
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Last month my HR manager sent a very sweet mail congratulating on three year completion in the organization. It struck me then that that meant three years completion in Bombay as well. Three years sped by and I didn’t even realize it. If time flies, then it most definitely has very large wings to brush under its span 1095 important life-days. If reader’s recall one strong reason for opting for Bombay (I still cannot get over calling it by its old name) was to understand what makes the city tick; to comprehend & appreciate its pulsating energy; to feel that…
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Six months back, seeing me busy in a flurry of signing agreements & making fresh post-dated rental cheques, someone had remarked, “Oh, you are changing house?” I had laughed it off, “No, I am changing my landlord!” It was a good joke then, but it backfired quite soon. Looking back, I regret not making my own offer to the owner. The property prices were relatively low, and the house went off in what now retrospectively everyone sagely tells me in an unbelievably superb deal’. I was a fool. And more than that, scared. Buying a house in Mumbai is a…
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Monday morning, and I was ready on time. Congratulating myself, I sipped the orange juice contentedly while checking email on my mobile. I sat on a slender but comfortable cane chair, with my back to the window that opens onto the small and cute balcony, a rarity in Mumbai flats. Outside the week expanded out in its soothing routine- a raddiwala cycled past asking for old newspapers, a wife bade goodbye to her husband, a neighbor admonished the car-cleaner to wash his car first, hurried footsteps rattled down the stairs, a few birds chirped, a car honked, an auto stuttered,…
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Bombay has enveloped itself into so many myths that it took me a year to finally break them free. Often I would reprimand myself for not believing them. These myths & tales are not written anywhere, they are perpetrated and spread by people living here, or those who would have visited the city sometime in its past. Today, these are my observations:
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Like the film by a similar title (incidentally, a brilliant one on terrorism) Mumbai witnessed a terrifying Wednesday as ten of its most prominent locations came under terrorist seige. Unlike the film, this was for real. And it didn’t end on that day. Even as I type this, nearly thirty two hours later, the terrifying drama continues – which shows the thorough and shrewd planning and preparedness the terrorist attackers had. My heart cries for the criminal waste of innocent lives, as it bleeds for the unnecessary desecration of Taj Hotel’s beauty. Frankly, I am quite at loss for words…
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Bombay has enveloped itself into so many myths that it took me a year to finally break them free. Often I would reprimand myself for not believing them. These myths & tales are not written anywhere, web implant they are perpetrated and spread by people living here, or those who would have visited the city sometime in its past. Today, these are my observations:
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In another world and time, gerontologist a trip to Europe would have meant a detailed blog-entry. But I am back already after a packed week travelling in trams and trains of Austria and Germany (with a short detour into Hungary), grip and it’s a week already, and I haven’t even thought of updating this space. Nay, even there, while viewing and visiting those lovely gardens and castles and palaces (and yeah, a slice of their night-life), I didn’t ‘think’ of how it would end up as a post. Perhaps, it was better then. At least, I ‘saw’ and ‘felt’ more,…