So, finally I am leaving Bangalore. Heading towards a rather unruly city, they say.
Will I be happy? I have to be. Afterall that’s my decision to leave this cosy-comfy job and opt for a much harder life. No pickups, no drops. Commuting forty kilometers a day in these insane, packed-like-sardines local trains, with the fear of a bomb going off anytime and reduce my much-adored body in pieces of flesh. Stories will not come to me, aha, I have to go and hunt for them.
Am I happy?
You bet, I am.
I know the life is hard there. But isn’t it true that anything easy makes you tired? Wouldn’t Mumbai be an adventure to be remembered? When did I say that I want time for myself?
No, heck no. I don’t want time for myself. I have had so much of time for myself in Bangalore, that I have gone crazy. It’s bloody damn tiring. When I switch off the light, and slip into my blanket, all kinds of thoughts keep crawling in, I go mad.
I want some hustle-bustle, the daily pangs of life that would be enough to make me forget my sad thoughts. I won’t say my life is full of tragedies. But I am a sensitive guy, and for me even a rude rebuke from a person I love is a disaster. I feel so morose. I feel so deserted, so lost.
Let there be harsh life waiting in ambush. I swear I will fight all the demons with defying courage. Yes, I want to fight the daily pangs of life. I want to see the raw life. My idle sadness can’t be more tragic than the life in a metro. Let me see that. And I am sure I will get the courage to laugh at my so-called depression.
And Bangalore is too artificial for my liking.
Yes, I know I will do well in Mumbai. I always perform best when in pressure. I know I will love Mumbai. And if Mumbai likes me, I know I am going to settle there.
I am going to be a Mumbaikar. Good bye Kolkata. Don’t cry for me. I am not coming back.
Goodbye Kolkata. I will come to you once in a while and fill my senses with the sweet fragrance of your bosom. But I will not sleep with you. I have a new lady in life. Mumbai.
