While independence and freedom to do your own thing have oft been quoted as reasons by my friends to move out and live on their own, it’d be unfair to say that I hadn’t received these priviledges in Pune and was prompted to leave. I have always had my freedom and when I didn’t get it served on a silver platter, I fought for it. No, it definitely wasn’t to be ‘free & independent’ that I relocated.
In Pune, my day always started with my dreams distorting in muted agony until I realized it was the seamless union of my subconscious’ manifestation and my mum’s voice calling out to say, “It’s (about) time to wake!” A slave to my taste buds, I’ve loved eating out since I was a child and eating home-cooked meals was always an unavoidable punishment. But I have good reasons for turning out to be a fast-food junkie. Always one with a job, cooking & cleaning are deemed a waste of time by mum who has neither the time nor the patience to bother much with either. As I write, her quote unquote “Delicious mixed sabji with paneer & karela is kept in the fridge,” She is above botheration of which veggies can or can’t be cooked together. But more on that later.
I had never lived with an alarm waking me, commuting (using all possible means of public transport) for 2 hours each way & viewing home cooked food as a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to cook my own food (if time permitted which is never), serve my own plate, fold my clothes, buy grocery, fruits & veggies and worse, pay my own bills! But I was learning…
When I reached Mumbai, I did not know
• What town was & what the western suburbs were.
• That Central line met the Western line at Dadar and the Harbour Line at Kurla.
• That there are THREE railway lines running north-south on the elongated strip named Mumbai.
But I learnt. Much more than I thought I would.
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