Bombay from above

I often wonder what Bombay would be like if the Britishers had left the seven (actually fourteen) islands alone. Sure, it wouldn’t be a metropolis. Instead, it would be a tropical paradise with marshes, beaches, rolling hills, fishing villages, and quaint little caves. 

Of course, I wouldn’t have grown up here. It was Bombay’s industries and offices that drew millions of people to the city — among them my grandparents and parents.

Over the years, my love for Bombay has waned. Like a child who grows up to notice the frailties of his parents he never noticed in childhood, I can see the cracks in this city. 

But yesterday, I sat in a plane that hovered over the city for nearly half an hour. Round and round it went above the skies of South Bombay. Cyclone Biparjoy had briefly driven away the pollution that hovers over the city. And we were treated to clear views under the (hot) afternoon sun. 

And my heart dropped a few thousand feet to meet the city below. Like an annoying child, I kept taking photos and showing them to my parents sitting beside me — “That’s Wankhede!” “There’s JNPT and Elephanta!” “Isn’t that the new trans harbour link!?” “That must be the Bandra Worli Sea Link!” 

That’s the thing about love, isn’t it? When you love someone – or something – no matter how flawed they are, they’ll invoke this child-like delight in you. You see the flaws, and yet feel an almost primal love for the person – or, in this case, a city.