Monday, December 25, 2006


It’s almost 4 AM. Really. Although that’s how one of the Matchbox 20 songs goes… “The clock’s been stuck at 3 for days, and days…” No it hasn’t been stuck anywhere actually. Though frankly a lot of us would like it to break off somewhere. Cuz everyday they look at it, it’s the same time, but just another day.

It’s generally in the night that I sometimes think about my previous place. The location that inspired 2 and 80 and other musings about the sea. You see, in these parts, except for Bandstand, there’s not really much of the ocean that you get to live with. Perhaps that ‘s why South Mumbai still commands a significant real-estate premium (Though that is a different subject matter altogether and I won’t waste precious blog space with that for now). Neither the stretch that leads to Bandra reclaimation (separate article on that later).

You can’t sit down at Bandstand (or anywhere in Bandra, for that matter) and try listening to “You’re Beautiful”. Doesn’t work. It’s like watching oil on water. It’s there, but you can’t smell it without getting a whiff of the salt around. Nor can you experience those random memories that flash, as if your mind were a photo frame, and a stranger decided to shine some photographs through it. Figments of lost songs playing on a neighborhood radio. They are there, but you can’t sing along with them. Because there’s too much crowd in these parts. Everyone has their stories to share with the ocean. Though in Breach Candy, it were a select few who walked into that sea-facing park where they could open their heart out. And watch the crimson Sun sink in the waters.

In these parts, even the Sun must be bored putting on a similar show every evening. And so as I write this, I know I am missing those few silent words with the waves. And perhaps more than that, it’s that feeling that I used to walk away with, as I continued to listen to those songs. With the waves lapping behind me, with the stream of joggers/walkers taking their turns around the park, or in some cases, with the guards coming in to close the show, there was a faintly familiar feeling of just saying goodbye to a friend, a friend who had answers, and not questions to throw back at you…

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