Dear Mumbai💤

              "कहीं बिल्डिंग, कहीं ट्रामे, 

              कहीं मोटर कहीं मिल

              मिलाता है यहाँ सब कुछ 

              इक मिलता नहीं दिल

              इंसां का नहीं कहीं नामोनिशाँ

             ज़रा हट के, ज़रा बच के

             ये है बॉम्बे मेरी जान"

Dear Mumbai,

I always wanted to write about you and tell you everything that I felt. Even though I was born here, I never loved you as such. Don't ask me why because I am still searching for the reason.

I love the way people describe you in poems and stories, but I hate it when they focus just on the "good" side.

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Sometimes I can feel you through my veins, in the air I breathe. I have seen those unwritten letters you keep hidden in the crowded local trains, and how you secretly open them at night when the trains are empty. I know how you put your fingers into your ears just to get rid of the vehicles screaming and the trains honking. 

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Have you stopped writing those letters?

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I know you feel naked when there's no one on your streets. I heard that you wept secretly during the lockdown, is it true? 

The very first time when I heard about your childhood, I could not stop falling for you. 

But today when I am writing this, I don't feel the same. You have changed, "We" changed you, I know that. 

Don't you hate when people mould you according to their needs? Or do you allow them on purpose?

I wish I could just go back in time and have a look at your life back then, how you made space for love and how you sowed sorrows in your soil and planted hope. 

I have read and heard a lot about you. But maybe not everything is true. 

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You never acknowledge people with doubts and weaknesses, you try to keep them away. I felt the same when I came here. 

But then eventually, I understood, this is important. You filter people before allowing them in your world and that's absolutely necessary. 

I am aware of this process, how I felt left out from this city, from you, at first. 

I know you never stop people from falling, you allow them to fail, but you also make sure that they get up and start again. 

I am on this never ending journey, but now I am sure that you are by my side. You will have space for my pain, you always do. 

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I wish I could just talk to you. I want to hear your stories, and visit your town of memories, and see how the streets are at night, how the shores sleep, how the sea baths and cries when there is no one around. 

I want to know how you felt when a homeless man cried on your shoulder blaming you for his failure, when a dog died choking on a plastic bag, how your streets yelled at you when the girls were raped, how you saw kids ruining their lives, exchanging sugar packets, inserting needles in their arms and how you felt helpless at that time, when someone planned attacks on your streets or were bullied secretly. I want to know when was the first time you cried and felt awful for being you, when you saw yourself in rags, getting exploited.

I want to know how you wept at the time of rain, when you saw your streets flooded with dumped waste.

I know how you hide your tears deep into the sea, and embrace ours, how you hold onto our dreams when you know that they are slipping from our hands. 

I want to ask you how you feel when these dreams slip and are passed onto the next destination, when you are not able to make it.

I want you to consume me, to allow me into your world, to teach me how to live. 

Maybe you are by my side reading this secretly, but I don't know how to see you. 

I have heard that sometimes you get into the people and share your stories with them, revealing the secrets you buried. 

Maybe this is the only way to connect to your soul, because you are hidden in us, in the air we breathe, running through our veins. 

Eventually you will meet each one of us, but only when it's the right time. 

You know what, you are the living example of kintsugi, a metaphor for embracing flaws and imperfections.

I have seen the cracks and crevices you hide everytime and build things over it, how you shatter into pieces but still hold it in and manage to stand strong.

Tell me about you, Mumbai. Maybe someday we will meet and have a cup of tea at the Marines. I want to hold you in my arms and embrace your tears, I want to share your pain, I want to fall in love with you. 

Once again! 

Yours truly,

Shruti.

                "ऐ दिल है मुश्किल जीना यहाँ

                ज़रा हट के ज़रा बच के

                ये है बॉम्बे मेरी जान "

                - Mohammed Rafi 

                    ये है बॉम्बे मेरी जान