Single in the city

Alone. In Mumbai. It’s been a few months. It was August last year when I first landed in Santa Cruz on a hot, steamy morning. I was to meet someone, sign an offer letter and catch a morning flight the day after. Since I had no prior booking, I had to go on a hotel hunt immediately.

I was looking for a room at around Rs 2500 per day. The amount, I was confident, would be enough for a reasonable room in a reasonable hotel.

Determined to be as near the airport as possible, I picked out what I thought were unassuming buildings.

With a slightly overdone courteousness, the receptionists politely told me that the “rooms, sir, start from 9000 INR.”

The guards respectfully opened the all-glass door for me.

Three walkouts later, when I was thanking my lucky stars for keeping a goatee since scratching it at these moments provides a welcome diversion, my guardian angel spotted me.

“Kahan jana hain, saabji?” He knew the answer, I suspected. “Aiye, baithiye,” the door of the AC cab held slightly ajar, he said.

“It’s no use looking for a lodging here,” he said, adding: “Let me take you to a cosy place nearby. The hotels here are mercenaries out to make a killing,” he warned me.

We wound our way through the lanes and by-lanes of Santa Cruz. Around 10 minutes later as the city became narrower, busier and shabbier, he halted.

“Wait,” he told me urgently, and disappeared.

It was noon already and I had an appointment at 3pm. Not knowing how far Lower Parel is from Santa Cruz and how best to reach there, I was perhaps getting a little impatient.

He came back after a few minutes and asked me to follow him.

We came to a lane just off the main street and he ushered me into a hotel which no one would notice unless looking for it. Two rickety side chairs and a damaged sofa sat opposite a reception table where a 30-something woman was busy talking over the phone.

My angel asked me to sit, went up to her and muttered something in a muffled voice.

“Bahut mushkil se ek room mila hain,” he came back to me.

After duly filling in the details, I grasped the key, took my bag and in my best Hindi, asked my angel “kitna hua”?

“Rs 500, saabji,” he said.

My palm started sweating. “Arrey!” I blurted, outraged. “Show me your meter”, I challenged.

My angel took pity on my ignorance. “Yeh AC taxi hain, saabji,” he flashed his betel nut teeth in a snooty grin. “You shell out the amount the moment you step inside.” He then reminded me that he has not charged a single paisa for his philanthropy! I handed the money.

I checked into the room. A large bed left little room for anything else. It was 1pm already but I ignored my watch and lied on the bed. The heat left me exhausted.

A cranky sound followed hot air. I don’t have an AC at home and don’t know how the damn thing works so I called up reception.

Shortly a towering, smelly attendant came and started tinkering with the machine. “Ab thik hain?” he asked me. There was a stream of cool air accompanied by a whining sound that grew louder by the minute.

“Off karna ho toh pehle lal button dabaiye,” he shouted over the noise, and went off.

I lay stubbornly in bed, determined to ignore the sound and squeeze out every bit of my money. Suddenly there was one mighty flash and then everything fell quiet. Acrid smoke started coming out of the AC ventilator.

By then I was getting desperately late for a very important appointment in a city which was new to me. I grabbed my bag and rushed out.

My appointment went off like a dream even though I was nearly two hours late. My would-be boss gave a warm hand-shake, a disarming smile and led me into a space filled with a young, vibrant crowd. For someone long used to the stiffness of a corporate hierarchy, it seemed refreshing.

It was the third birthday of the organisation I was about to join. The mock fighting to grab a small piece of the cake, the spraying of the bubbly, the infectious smiles of those around me caught me unawares. Pretty girls they were too.

I returned to my ground-floor room that evening thanks in no small measure to another taxiwallah who stubbornly went through the lanes and by-lanes because I had lost all clue. I lied on the bed after an exhausting day. The AC has been fixed. I had to catch a morning flight but suddenly I couldn’t wait for my date of joining. I was beginning to like this melting pot – this city.