The Lost Voice

Ever since I’ve moved to Bombay, the definition of ‘Time’ is now categorized as luxury. Known as the city that never sleeps, Bombay even when quite is actually really loud and this shore-sharaaba somewhere, seems to have intimidated my inner voice. With my thoughts stifled, I feel incomplete. At random but rare occasions, I sit staring at blank walls, hoping to see shadows of a voice that once was. But I’m greeted with nothing but a tired silence. Tired, is the voice that once had a right to opinions and an opinion on every right. But today the canvas seems blank.

After months of contemplation & gathering of guts, I’m finally strolling down the long sought road. Excited. But many a times this feeling, engulfed by the fast pace around, seems to recede faster than the price per barrel. A city that is home to over 13 million souls, can hardly be grieved against, for lack of any personal space. The only moments I’m gifted alone, while traveling to and fro from work, I find sadly charred by the exhaust of trucks, drowned by horns that want to run me over, crowded by street urchins & other travelers that hurl stones of distraction, shattering the windows of my thoughts. I’ve even flirted with the option of locking myself up in cupboards, just to be alone, finally, only to realize, that, here even the darkness seems to want to chat!

One day, I too shall become a Mumbaiya. Then I’ll be able to think louder than my distractions, react faster then an oncoming train. When faces will no longer exist, but the crowd will just be a blur. When I’ll hurt, but there wont be time to feel the pain. When I’ll be happy but it’ll have to be a ‘take-away please’. Loosing my religion or not, will be a challenge, but I’m positive I’ll discover that ‘something’ that will make the ride all worth-it.