Everybody knows the dream cities of the world—places where life seems glamorous, culture thrives and all the coolest people live. London, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, Seoul, New York. The list wouldn’t be complete without Mumbai, the famous City of Dreams itself, a place I am fortunate enough to have been born and raised in. Year after year, people uproot their lives to move to Mumbai in search of something greater. The city has long sold the fantasy of possibility, that if you are willing to endure enough discomfort, you will eventually be rewarded for it. But things have been different lately. The heat, the dirt, the crowds themselves, the constant cacophony of traffic, the crumbling infrastructure—all of it is corroding the perfect illusion that the people of this city once collectively believed in.
Cafe Mondegar in Colaba.Getty Images
Living in Mumbai is living in default mode, ‘default’ being a cycle of school, gym, work, supermarket, traffic, home and bed for most of us. There is no time to wander, no time to discover something new or to even participate in the world in any meaningful way. Almost all my weekends are spent in bed, recovering from the exhausting place that is the outside. A month can easily pass without me doing anything memorable at all.
At times, when I spot a celebrity at a traffic signal or hear someone say, “Oh wow, you’re from Mumbai,” I briefly remember that some people yearn for my life, but the feeling never lasts long. Yes, it is Mumbai, but I am used to it. All the magic is gone. A place that had once seemed so large and full of possibilities when I was a child is now just… my hometown; just another regular part of the world.
