Changing home
Mumbai has been 'home' for the past 23 years. She's seen me grow up, change, unchange and then once again discover myself. She's been the site of multiple chapters that have thus far built the story of my life. Granted I spent 6 years in another city that also significantly impacted the me I am today, but Mumbai has always been home. And I always thought that when the moment came to share her with a friend/acquaintance/lover that they would be peering into moments of my life as an outsider. A person with a momentary view into parts of this city that are tied to me. Someone who would be the passive listener to my constant narrations of what happened where. Yet this time, when such a moment arose, it was significantly different from anything I imagined.
Merely a week ago, I had the privilege to share this quaint city with the love of my life. I was prepared to act as a tour guide to him. I expected to walk him through the moments of joy, sorrow, love, heartbreaks and more. But as has always been the case in our relationship, all expectations were turned over leaving behind the most heartwarming and pleasant surprises.
As he cheerfully traipsed around the city with me, my history with the city didn't seem to matter. It didn't seem to matter that he was an outsider. It didn't matter how many times I had already fallen in love in this city. For while he was here, in that brief interlude from exhausting work and a daily traffic laden commute, all that seemed to matter was him in the city.
For that brief moment the significance of this person and this place overlapped so completely that my entire relationship with the city seemed to alter. In a city where one is always conscious of the ticking of time, his presence created the opportunity to completely lose track of time by the rain swollen waters of the Arabian sea as we dangled our feet on Marine drive. His presence rewrote new stories in the city that seem to eclipse all else that was forged over 23 years. Don't get me wrong, there are still find moments of my past peppered across the city that are not tied to him. What I mean is that his brief presence in the city somehow injected more love into this city, making it all the more enigmatic despite its ever raging chaos.
In the one week since he has left, I've tried to make sense of this alteration. I've tried to understand how such a brief visit could so significantly impact both me and my relationship to the city. And after significant contemplation I have reached the cliched yet honest conclusion, that at some point in the 6 years we've been together, home ceased to be a place and instead became a person.
