In India, if there is one place everyone wants to go. It's Mumbai - the city of dreams. From Devanand to Shahrukh Khan, everyone has a rags to riches story. So even if you are happily settled in regal Delhi, the magical city of Mumbai, with all its stories of glory, freedom, bindasness, still seems alluring. And before you know it everyone you know, is packing there bags to go to Mumbai. From the aspiring filmstar to the social worker (perhaps trying to find luck in Dharavi) is off to Mumbai. 
I had two opportunities to make it to this city of dreams. Once, after graduation when I made it to the interview of a reknowned social sciences institute in Mumbai and next as a journalist.  Yet, despite all my appreciation, fascination, and desire I could never make it Mumbai. It wasn't that I didn't cherish my freedom, or want to feel liberated. It was just that the thought of sharing a four sq feet flat with one loo with  six girls wasn't exactly my cup of tea. I, with my, 'my space' fetish, was just too selfish back then. Later as a journalist I tried to redefine adventure for myself I chose to nestle for a while in Ahmedabad, a few miles away from Mumbai, where despite the distance Mumbai was just a night away. I amused myself with khamans and Khandvis, aamras, masala chai, vada pao, all the while telling myself that I would have enjoyed the same things in Mumbai. I took what Gujarat had to offer, went for garba, then Baroda to take a look at the Laxmi Villas Palace (which I thought had a skewed sense of design)  and then for a day to Champaner,  a medieval Indian site, now a UNESCO world Heritage site.  But then standing at a distance, Mumbai beckoned and i gave in. One night, a few days before Diwali, i got on to a Volvo bus and went to Mumbai.
After a night long busride dawn saw me in Mumbai. A city,  with tall buildings, with cracks as big and ominous as an eagle's claws rose before me. It was dawn, and I could already see people marching - to work, whether we passed a slum, a chawl or a multistoreyed building, irrespective of their class, caste, clothes, people marched to work. Yeh hai hard working Mumbai meri jaan. I thought.  As the bus moved on I got a closer look at the buildings. I liked the windows, they were kind of extended balconies with iron grills. With space enough for a person to sleep on the window sill - breathing in the cool, free, air of Mumbai. But then the whole layout reminded me of one word 'clutter'. It buzzed so loud in my ear causing near asphyxiation. 
Anyway, the bus reached Dadar and I checked into my abode, a luxurious suite in the Dadar post office. (A friend who checked it out said that the bathroom in the suite was bigger than his apartment, lucky me). The next day, after checking out  look at Shah rukh khan's house, spotting a whole lot of couples necking and petting at the beach,  and exploring the skeletal ruins at the Bandra Bandstand, I decided to go to Thane to meet a cousin, in a local - on my own.  So here I was on a bright sunny Diwali morning, standing at the the Dadar railway station waiting, with many more human beings than i would see even on a ramlila ground, for a speeding local  which, I was warned by my cousin, would slow down for a nanosecond on the platform, for me and another 1000 to get in. The train arrived and I didn't have to really jump in. I just flowed with the crowd into the train compartment and before I knew it I was being marinated in sweat, smelling of fish and perfume. That Diwali in Mumbai, however, was one of the most memorable. I burst crackers after a long long time. The next day was time to get back and once again I boarded the metro now a classic in the history of transportation in India. This time the journey wasn't all that bad as I got a place near the door to stand and yet when I got down from the train at Dadar I could feel me head spin.
Mumbai seemed drifting away from me again the next day, when I met a friend working in a MNC. She said she was 'paying a bomb for a little hole' . 
So that's it guys. The people, people everywhere and not a soul in sight situation, the paying bomb for a little hole situation and the flying metros that stop for a nanosecond all just make me feel like a big fat balloon that has to fit into the eye of a needle called Bombay. yeah Yeah I know it would have been great if I had made it and I know someday I would but before I make it to the Mumbai of my dreams I have to get out of the Mumbai of my mind.