The city hurried before my eyes, and the pace with which things moved was merely captivating. From above, I watched the minute ant-like cars race on the crowded roads, which looked extremely narrow and crooked from high up. Lengths of tall buildings illuminated the city; it looked like stars descended from the night sky and lightened up the nooks and corners of Mumbai. Men and women in formal wears hopped in and out of buses and wandered around the crammed roads, struggling to stop a Rickshaw; some stomped their feet on the hard ground in annoyance when the Rickshaw drivers simply drove away, some yelled their lungs out in frustration. Watching the City of Dreams from above with a warm cup of coffee was inspiring; the race everyone ran against time was intriguing, and the dedication everyone ran with, despite the turbulence, was motivating. There was absolutely no room for existence in the city; everyone strived to live, and make a living, and to me, that was art.
Just when I took a sip of my steaming hot coffee, I heard the main-door click and seconds later, a loud creaking sounded emerged, which forced me to turn around. Nash stuck her head through the gap between the door and doorframe, and silently snuck inside the living room, which was illuminated by a dim lampshade. I walked out of the balcony, and reached out for the light switch, turning on two lights at once. In fear, Nash stumbled backwards, tightening her grip around the DSLR she held between her hands, and shut her eyes for a brief moment. "Oh God!", Nash exclaimed, turning her face away from the bright white light, and I giggled. "I thought I'd help you find your way, without tripping in the dark", I said, turning one light off. "Didn't you sleep, Dityaa?", Nash questioned, letting out a wide yawn and looked down at her wristwatch. "I thought I'd spend time, looking at the city", I answered, taking a small sip of the bitter coffee. "Damn, that romance is one of its kind", Nash's voice toned down into a hush, as she unwrapped her Hijab. "Vaish and Chanch slept, right?". Nash shot another question and I answered in a nod. "Do I, um...did you eat dinner? Shall I cook something for you?", I offered, hesitatingly, and Nash simply flashed a warm smile at me. "Maybe, I'd love a cup of coffee", Nash pointed at the coffee mug I held, and I shuffled my feet to the kitchen. "Don't mind me asking...", I said, heating milk in a steel vessel, and looked up at Nash, who struggled to tie her hair into a high ponytail. "...don't you think it's a little too late to return home?", I asked her, and glanced at the clock nailed on the wall, which almost stuck 12:34 a.m.. "I mean, you've been out all day, isn't it exhausting? Oh, by the way, tell me something about yourself!", I bombarded her with questions, and she sat on the marbled counter in the kitchen, swinging her legs back and forth. "Aren't you a little too curious?", Nash lightly questioned. "Way too curious", I shrugged, emptying a spoonful of coffee power into a cup. "I'm a Sri Lankan...", Nash started off, and I silenced her with a surprised bark. "WHAT?", I screamed, appalled, and gawked at her with my mouth dropped half-open, making her laugh. "Wow!! That was so fucking unexpected", I scanned her from head to toe. "Dude, stop checking me out!", Nash jokingly snapped, and we shared a laugh. "What's the Sri Lankan beauty doing in India?", I questioned, filling the cup with hot milk. "Uh, I don't know", Nash sighed, throwing her head back and sat cross-legged on the marbled counter. "Maybe, I'm looking for an escape or I'm in search for that feeling of homeliness. I don't know, man. I'm simply wandering, hoping that my soul would find home someday", Nash sounded utterly clueless, and I looked on, patiently, expecting her to shape her explanation but she fell silent. "But that feeling of homeliness you're looking for, Nash...doesn't it come from home?", I raised a question in curiosity, and Nash looked down at her hands, shaking her head to the sides. "What does 'homeliness' mean to you, then?", I asked her, handing her a cup of coffee.
She took the cup from my hand, wrapped her palms around it, hopped out of the counter and walked towards the balcony, while I trailed behind her in silence. "Homeliness is a feeling, Dityaa; a feeling that's indescribable and beyond one's understanding, trust me. Emotions and feelings are readable to an extent; somewhere deep down, you know what it takes to be happy, and you know when you're sad and what you have to do to pull yourself out of it, right? Because I feel that happiness and sadness are emotions which hit your heart...and your heart can be tamed. But that feeling of not being at home numbs your soul, and that's always going to be a language you'd never understand. You can read your mind because it carries thoughts; you can understand your heart because it bears feelings, but your soul...do you even know what it holds? I don't know what homeliness means to me, Dityaa, but I know I'll be at home when my soul merges with calmness", Nash's words were deep, extremely deep, and beyond what my mind could ponder about. She looked simple and sorted, but her thoughts exactly contradicted her; she was at war with the way her mind functioned, and I wondered how she concealed the storm within her. "Are you happy? Like, can you be a happy person, even when you're not at home?", I looked in her direction and stared at the weak smile which lit up her tired-looking face, as she gazed at the night sky filled with shimmery stars. "The best thing about happiness is, it's out there for everyone to experience. Happiness doesn't discriminate, nor does it demand us to be in a certain state of mind or status to be felt. All it takes is – willpower. They say, where there's a will, there's a way. You could be the most miserable person on Earth, Dityaa, but if you wake up with the mindset to be happy, you will find a way to be happy", Nash explained. "But that's not going to be genuine happiness, which would last", I powerlessly argued. "You tell me...", Nash turned in my direction. "Who is genuinely happy in a world full of chaos?", Nash asked, and I only focused on the calmness with which she spoke. "Just a simple advice, Dityaa – if you're going to chase happiness to sustain it for the rest of the day, you'll never be happy; because an attempt to sustain welcomes stress, and where there's stress, there's storm. Happiness is about the moment, this very moment you're living, as simple as that. Because when you look at it, closely, when you worry about being happy the next moment, you'll end up worrying about the next and then the next, and the cycle goes on; if you're losing this moment for the sake of the next moment, then it's not worth it, trust me. Ask yourself – why am I striving too hard and worrying too much about the next moment, when I'm not even guaranteed that I'd live that moment?", Nash concluded, and we coexisted in silence for a long while, staring at the city which rushed beneath our eyes. She was mysterious, and complicated; I felt she hid beneath layers and there was a lot to discover about her. I couldn't help but wonder that – if she was someone who great understanding and vast knowledge about life, why was it so hard for her to settle down and make peace with her own life? She was at clash with her thoughts, and it was obvious. She was someone who could leave a stirring impact on you within moments, and she'd still manage to play games with your mind. Twisted was an understatement for Nash; to me, her calmness was terrifying.
"I think we got a little too carried away that you forgot to tell me about the reason behind your visit to India...", I prompted, breaking the ice between us. "Oh yes!", Nash exhaled, and I smiled. "I've taken a break from University for a whole year to shoot a documentary in India...just like that", Nash shrugged her shoulders, and turned around to walk out of the balcony. "Which means, you'll be leaving?", my voice dropped. "In another six months, yes", she shrugged and my heart dropped. "God, I'm missing you already!", I frowned, and Nash chuckled, dropping the cup into the sink. "By the way, does Chanchal take time to mingle with people?", I asked Nash, as we walked towards the bedroom. "She hasn't talked to you yet?", Nash laughed. "She hasn't even looked in my direction!", I stated. "That's the way she is; she takes time because she's extremely anti-social. Sometimes she's so zoned-out and has this 'What the fuck am I doing between human beings?' look on her face", Nash joked. "OMG, yes! I noticed it in the afternoon. It's like she's silently plotting a murder", I played along with Nash. "Dude, she'll actually kill you if she hears this", Nash lightly warned, and we giggled, pushing the bedroom door open.
And that marked the end of day one in Mumbai, which was somewhat welcoming and warm.
YOU ARE READING
Attachments
Teen Fiction[COMPLETED]. When Dityaa moves to Mumbai with big dreams and a vision, things don't quite go her way. The struggle to survive in an unknown city is real. Living up to her expectations becomes a battle, coping with her worried mother becomes difficul...
