There is something magical about experiencing your city come alive. And no better way to experience it than walking. Walked to my maushi’s place today — about 10 plus kms. 7:30 a.m. to around 9:30 a.m. — Passed a playground packed to capacity at 8, newspaper stalls, a man wearing a red apron in his “paan ki dukaan”, numerous “chai ki tapris”, a vadapav stall- the first batch was just about to be dunked in oil (would have made a good picture), then the temples with cows outside, the big bunch of blokes at a naka — waiting for their contractor to deliver them to today’s meal ticket, boys and girls in football jerseys jogging to their practice, families in their Sunday best waiting at a bus stop, a once proud cinema hall waiting for deliverance, forlorn — consumed by development, then there is the metro work — tall pillars with arms extended waiting for the beams on which rakes will run and add to the glitter of my city, whose definition of progress seems to change every decade — this is also evidenced by the names of the buildings passed — mythological, names of the developers children/parents (the ones with Smruti), then the aspirational — heights, towers etc which possibly came up in the 90s, now being redeveloped and morphing into galaxies and universes; even the ones named after flowers and places have now changed from local/national to exotic international varieties. as always my city is always changing, moving on, like a shark never stopping not because it wants to but simply because it cannot.
at the end of 10 kms, waiting patiently was my maushi all ready with a super breakfast spread — effusive in praise of my walking effort — urging me to have another bite.
mothers and maushis, I tell you — will never change