I went to Mumbai. What happened next drowned my body. Literally.

Having lived in Delhi for the first 25 years of my life (I am excluding the last one year because I spent that in East Delhi, which is as much Delhi as Rupa undergarments is La Senza lingerie), there are very few cities that I will find comfortable to live in. I found Chandigarh way too clean and well-planned (two strictly anti-punjabi qualities), and Jaipur to be too quiet for my comfort. In a way I realised that I needed a city with a young, spirited crowd and active night life to make it easy for me to ogle at girls enjoy whatever time and energy I have left after sniffing litres of anaesthetic gases in the OT. Then, I went to Mumbai.

I went to Mumbai with quite a few preconceived notions about the city. I thought it will be a city full of traffic congestion and I would spend 2.75 days of my 3-day trip using words like ‘halkat‘ and ‘kootreya‘ to vent out my frustration in a cab. I thought the police was divided into two kinds of officers: Sub-Inspector Bataawdekars and Constable Waghmares. I thought the women would be too arrogant for any man’s comfort. I thought people had vadaa-pav as breakfast, lunch, dinner, evening snacks, midnight munchies and as chakhna with alcohol. I thought it would be raining so much that Sun won’t be visible for the entire duration of my trip. Though I was correct about the last one, I was proven wrong about most of my misconceptions.
The only thing Delhi is better than mumbai in terms of roadways, is that it has bushes and trees along the sides, which is the partly the result of our ultra-civilised roadside toilet habits. Mumbai is better in terms of public transport:

Me: Bhau Lower Parel Chalega?

Taxi Driver: Haan Baitho.

Me: Kitne loge?

Driver: Meter se baitho.

Me: (reflexly) arey itna zyada thode na banegWHAATTT?

*Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham theme tune plays in the background as tears roll down the eyes*

I was wrong about the policemen names too. There are also Constable Gaitondes and Salunkhes in the force. 25% each. Yes, most of them have a thick moustache and a paunch made up entirely of doughnuts of western culture (aka Vadaa Pavs). 
Mumbai is expensive. I can say that because I can compare it to Delhi in terms of alcohol prices, street food prices, and even for prices of fake products at Palika bazaar vs Colaba causeway. You would see much better crowd at Causeway, and hence the increased rates can be justified as ‘entertainment’ or ‘greenery’ tax. Causeway is a normal open market, hence shopping there during rains can be a real pain. Delhi rains are a proper phenomenon. 2 hours worth of winds, dust-storms, trees getting uprooted, signboards hitting people’s heads, basically full mahaul banega, till the point every Delhiite starts looking up at the sky with the look of hope that is usually seen at the face of a boyfriend after his girlfriend has had her fourth LIIT. More often than not, the result is also similar: KLPD. However, in Mumbai, one second it is not raining, the next it is raining so heavily that you’ll drown in a flood before you can say ‘Tacha Mayla Sharad Pawar‘.
Now coming to the main reason this post saw the light of the day: Mumbai girls. The most attractive thing about them is the fact that they use negligible amount of make-up, hence look almost the same before and after washing their face at night. Wearing dresses and crop-tops is easy for them, as they do not have Haryaanvi jats giving them invitation in the formal language called threat by using words like, “Oye Saxy babe, outside very cold come inside warm Safari no!” Mumbai people are far too busy surviving the expensive city that they do not have time to stop and stare at women and make them uncomfortable, and my entire duration of stay there, I found just one stupid, creepy piece of shit doing so. Ok I’ll be honest. It was me.
Sorry for that Mumbai. Until we meet again, stay wet, stay wild. 
Wait. That came out wrong. 

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About Ankit Sharma

Doctor and Drummer in making... Movie-buff since birth.
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