“Where are you? Have you packed everything? Do not carry those useless dresses... Give some of them to a needful person and get rid of extra baggage... Are you sure you will be able to carry so many suitcases alone?”
“Maa, please stop it now; I need to take a bath before I leave for the station. I am busy. I am hanging up now!”
“No, no wait! One last thing. Did you eat properly? Did you ask that person at the mess to pack some lunch for you?”
“Yes, I did. See you,” I sounded irritated and hung up.
I belong to the old city of Hyderabad and had come to Bombay for my studies. My college got over last week and now, I am going back to live with my maa before I begin with a job. I still remember the first time that I had travelled alone. It was four years back, when I had come to Bombay for college. Maa asked exactly the same questions back then, too. I don’t understand why it is so necessary to treat me like a little school-going kid always. I mean, I understand, she is my mother and everything, but still? Well, whatever I say, I know that at the end of the day, if I do not get a call from her asking me about my dinner, I would not attain a peaceful sleep.
I have packed up everything and now it is time to leave, finally.
Hostel was mayhem. Such gross food, enemies in disguise, long lonely nights and the boiling rooms. I missed my welcoming and cosy room so much. I am so excited thinking about the after-hostel-life. Maa’s food, air-conditioned rooms, no shortage of money, I can watch television whenever I may; such bliss! At the back of my mind, I feel guilty already for hanging up so rudely, but it is okay. I will make up by calling her after I reach the station or maybe, when I board the train.
I am going back, finally.
I take a bath, for one last time and leave for the station. It’s 1:30pm by my watch and I have to board the train to Hyderabad which arrives at 3:30pm. It will hardly take an hour to reach the station, but Bombay and its traffic, you know?
“Taxi!” I scream.
The roads are always shinning with yellow rooftops, but I can never manage to find a taxi when needed the most. The baggage I’m carrying is now a pain in the palms, perhaps, maa was right. I should have left some of the dresses. I am not going to wear them anyway. Finally a cab stops by me.
“Mumbai Central?”
“Get in!”
Letting out a heavy sigh, I struggle myself and the bags inside the taxi. I plug in my earphones and play my second favourite playlist.
So I am actually leaving these streets, finally!
“He is the painkiller, this is the painkiller, faster than a lazer bullet, louder than an atom bomb,” Judas Priest’s ‘painkiller’ buzzes in my ear, exactly where I left it at and exactly the part I like the most. I put it at repeat and rest my head on the window. Somebody knocks the glass. I feel the urge to open my eyes and check, but I am too tired already.
“Must be a beggar, ignore,” I say to myself.
My phone vibrates and I am sure Maa is calling me again. I decide to ignore her call and talk only when I board the train. I feel a slight tap on my shoulder.
“With mankind resurrected, forever to survive, returns from Armageddon to the skies, He is the painkiller” the song continues.
I take off my ear plugs to look at the flushed face of the cabbie. I knew I can never complete a journey without a thrill. I urge him to speak but he stays mute. I can see him trying to gather words, finally.
“There’s a bustle ahead,” his voice shakes.
“Any idea, why is it so?”
“Might be a rally. I don’t know. We cannot go ahead.”
I get down from the cab, even more irritated and walk towards the movement. I fumble for my phone in the bag to turn off the song.
“1 unread message. 26 missed calls: Maa,” it reads.
I have no clue when I put the phone on silent. Before I could read the message or respond to the calls, I see people running around with their faces reading evident worry. My sixth sense tells me to get away from this place. I can feel a sinister in the air. I can smell a pungent smell; melting plastic, wires, what would it be? I am pretty curious. I can see some distant smoke.
“Move, there’s a bom.... !” a man screams and I feel a burning sensation even before I could react. A deafening explosion blurs my vision to a dazzle and everything disappears in less than a minute.
I understand what it is, finally.
*
I remember my mother’s womb. I was just a little sperm who had randomly succeeded to win the race and was rewarded with a nine month spa. All I had to do was to float and occasionally kick to make maa smile. I remember her hand-cooked food, how she cared about me, how she always held and helped me. But now that I am not there, I start to realize how comfortable everything was.
Though, here, things are pretty much the same. When in womb, I floated in the sweet fragrance of the spa and here, I float in the middle of the skies. The hot spa has changed to a pleasant breeze. Just that now, I do not make my maa smile. I am now the reason of occasional tears which I cannot wipe, perhaps, will never be able to wipe.
I realize how things would have been had I answered her last call.
I realize, finally.
“Maa, please stop it now; I need to take a bath before I leave for the station. I am busy. I am hanging up now!”
“No, no wait! One last thing. Did you eat properly? Did you ask that person at the mess to pack some lunch for you?”
“Yes, I did. See you,” I sounded irritated and hung up.
I belong to the old city of Hyderabad and had come to Bombay for my studies. My college got over last week and now, I am going back to live with my maa before I begin with a job. I still remember the first time that I had travelled alone. It was four years back, when I had come to Bombay for college. Maa asked exactly the same questions back then, too. I don’t understand why it is so necessary to treat me like a little school-going kid always. I mean, I understand, she is my mother and everything, but still? Well, whatever I say, I know that at the end of the day, if I do not get a call from her asking me about my dinner, I would not attain a peaceful sleep.
I have packed up everything and now it is time to leave, finally.
Hostel was mayhem. Such gross food, enemies in disguise, long lonely nights and the boiling rooms. I missed my welcoming and cosy room so much. I am so excited thinking about the after-hostel-life. Maa’s food, air-conditioned rooms, no shortage of money, I can watch television whenever I may; such bliss! At the back of my mind, I feel guilty already for hanging up so rudely, but it is okay. I will make up by calling her after I reach the station or maybe, when I board the train.
I am going back, finally.
I take a bath, for one last time and leave for the station. It’s 1:30pm by my watch and I have to board the train to Hyderabad which arrives at 3:30pm. It will hardly take an hour to reach the station, but Bombay and its traffic, you know?
“Taxi!” I scream.
The roads are always shinning with yellow rooftops, but I can never manage to find a taxi when needed the most. The baggage I’m carrying is now a pain in the palms, perhaps, maa was right. I should have left some of the dresses. I am not going to wear them anyway. Finally a cab stops by me.
“Mumbai Central?”
“Get in!”
Letting out a heavy sigh, I struggle myself and the bags inside the taxi. I plug in my earphones and play my second favourite playlist.
So I am actually leaving these streets, finally!
“He is the painkiller, this is the painkiller, faster than a lazer bullet, louder than an atom bomb,” Judas Priest’s ‘painkiller’ buzzes in my ear, exactly where I left it at and exactly the part I like the most. I put it at repeat and rest my head on the window. Somebody knocks the glass. I feel the urge to open my eyes and check, but I am too tired already.
“Must be a beggar, ignore,” I say to myself.
My phone vibrates and I am sure Maa is calling me again. I decide to ignore her call and talk only when I board the train. I feel a slight tap on my shoulder.
“With mankind resurrected, forever to survive, returns from Armageddon to the skies, He is the painkiller” the song continues.
I take off my ear plugs to look at the flushed face of the cabbie. I knew I can never complete a journey without a thrill. I urge him to speak but he stays mute. I can see him trying to gather words, finally.
“There’s a bustle ahead,” his voice shakes.
“Any idea, why is it so?”
“Might be a rally. I don’t know. We cannot go ahead.”
I get down from the cab, even more irritated and walk towards the movement. I fumble for my phone in the bag to turn off the song.
“1 unread message. 26 missed calls: Maa,” it reads.
I have no clue when I put the phone on silent. Before I could read the message or respond to the calls, I see people running around with their faces reading evident worry. My sixth sense tells me to get away from this place. I can feel a sinister in the air. I can smell a pungent smell; melting plastic, wires, what would it be? I am pretty curious. I can see some distant smoke.
“Move, there’s a bom.... !” a man screams and I feel a burning sensation even before I could react. A deafening explosion blurs my vision to a dazzle and everything disappears in less than a minute.
I understand what it is, finally.
*
I remember my mother’s womb. I was just a little sperm who had randomly succeeded to win the race and was rewarded with a nine month spa. All I had to do was to float and occasionally kick to make maa smile. I remember her hand-cooked food, how she cared about me, how she always held and helped me. But now that I am not there, I start to realize how comfortable everything was.
Though, here, things are pretty much the same. When in womb, I floated in the sweet fragrance of the spa and here, I float in the middle of the skies. The hot spa has changed to a pleasant breeze. Just that now, I do not make my maa smile. I am now the reason of occasional tears which I cannot wipe, perhaps, will never be able to wipe.
I realize how things would have been had I answered her last call.
I realize, finally.
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