Page 28 - Love Story of a Commando

Eventually, after frantically searching the rows of identically clad
potbellied men holding up signs outside the airport, I found someone bearing
my name and my company’s name.
He led me across the road, striding out into the oncoming traffic until
we arrived at a battered Swift Dzire, which was thankfully air conditioned.
The streets of Mumbai passed by in a blur and I could register that pot holes
were common on Mumbai streets; Delhi that way has better roads, beautiful
parks, more space and people can actually afford to have a bungalow.
I was aware that the cost of living in Mumbai was higher and having
a roof over your head here was counted as a luxury because half of Mumbai
lived in endless rows of slum dwellings with blue tarpaulin-lined roofs or
slept on footpaths. But Mumbai has its own charms despite the stark
difference in the life it offers to its townies and burbies. Just so you know,
townies are the upscale pretentious pricks of South Bombay while burbies
are their supposedly less-privileged counterparts. They are like siblings who
constantly bicker about everything.
Finally, we arrived at my new home—an apartment provided by the
company, which was basically a shabby building just off a busy intersection
in Colaba, one of the most touristy areas in Mumbai.
The apartment, which I had to share with three other trainees, was
close to my office in Nariman Point. I stepped into an ancient, creaking lift
which looked like it had not been cleaned in years and entered my shady
little apartment. The interior of flat number 402 on the fourth floor did not
look much better than the outside of the building. It was furnished simply
with a tasteless blend of dark grey curtains and minimal furniture. There
were two decent-sized bedrooms, each with two single beds sagging sadly in
the middle. The bathroom and kitchen continued the minimal decor theme.
The kitchen was equipped with a four-burner gas, some basic provisions and
a fridge that hummed loudly. The small microwave-oven was a surprise
though.
All in all, nothing too fancy, nothing too pathetic. I was not in a
position to expect more.
The silver lining was that I got to choose my bed and cupboard. I
dumped my stuff onto the corner bed near the window which looked right
over the Arabian Sea. I could see miles and miles of ocean right from my
bed. I grinned; it was good that I arrived before the other roommates.
I was glad I was in Mumbai. I had a job and a flat. This was the start
of my shiny new life and adulthood beyond the limitations of college life. I
fell asleep to the chorus of dogs barking and horns beeping below. Colaba
was a busy neighbourhood.
I woke up to a bright cerulean sky, cloudless and luminous in its
intensity and an excellent ocean view.