Its been the longest since I have stayed out of the city. Two and a half months. My Mumbai has inspired a slew of writers over time from Rushdie to Kiran Nagarkar to Rohinton Mistry, Suketu Mehta, Siddharth Sanghvi not to forget Gregory David Roberts. I have not read any of their books, probably cause I was taking Mumbai for granted like the rest of us, now that I do not live there any more, I am beginning to realise the value of the city.... or is it a continent?
Let hundreds of such author's bloom, why should New York take it all.
Too much of literary stuff, I just want to do the things I want to do, once I am back there. Can t wait to loaf aimlessly on Colaba Causeway; watch a movie at Eros or Regal; hit my gym after that, then pretend to be on some road-side cafe in Rome while leisurely sipping iced tea at Pizzeria & chomping on a slice of Margarita, hang out at Leopold's. Walk down Kala Ghoda whilst reminiscing the awesome monsoon wedding I had not so long ago, then catch up with old friends & sip Breezers at Sundance or Mondy's; browse at the Crossword; then look at all the shoe shops down Kemp's Corner & window shop at Breach Candy while the soft breeze sways my curls.
Post dinner indulge in some decadent deserts at Mocha while listening to the cute discussions of college kids on the next table & then have my brother-in-law drive me down the entire stretch of Marine Drive till Cuffe Parade. Try to get my sister to go with me to Polly Esthers.... oh I love that place. Another day would be spent having breakfast at home & long conversations with mum & dad about how life has been a roller coaster since the beginning of 2007. Lazily lying around in my parents cozy bedroom looking & commenting on the wedding pics...
Awww... this is making me cry. That's it.
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