The day before yesterday I was walking the bridge from Bandra terminus to Bandra station where the local trains ride at. As much the name Bandra in one evokes a feeling of Juhu, sunny streets, film industry, celebrities, hip cafes and gourmet restaurants, the east of Bandra should evoke in one a sense of uneasiness. This is what a post-apocalyptic organized society might look like.

The bridge had no footpath to walk on. I had reached there after climbing the footbridge from Platform Two at the Terminus. I was stuck walking at the sides, other people were doing it already. Some were even sitting on the ledge smoking or just doing nothing in particular. The view around me was dismal. Small cramped apartments with dilapidated buildings from horizon to horizon. Now the thing is the horizon tricks you into believing it is a vast expanse but it is not. The buildings are low-rise with industrial and vehicular pollution along with the dust of ages visible on their yellowing walls, flaky paint breaking down brown. Each apartment building stuck so close to each other and the other slums below not visible directly.

Some of these apartments have a window facing towards the bridge and I can very easily peek into what goes on inside of these. I am a voyeur of the sombre. I can, at one instance, see the apartment passageway these apartments are across of through the open doors facing the window. Why do these sights always provoke a non-memory of violence, physical abuse and alcohol? The films of Anurag Kashyap and David Lynch have done much to me. But this cannot be just about films.

As much as Bombay evokes in one a romanticism of the benign sun, opportunities, brilliant people and beautiful places it also brings up memories of such dismal sights I have witnessed in the past one and a half year I have been here now. This feeling is dread and a wish for more simple things.

See you tomorrow,
Avi.