[Reader-list] Main Hoon Na!

[Zainab Bawa]

24th November 2004

Main Hoon Na!

I promised him that I will be there at 4 PM and extracted a similar promise 
from him. But I am afraid he will not turn up. He thinks I am a press 
reporter and that I am going to write about him in the papers. Maybe his 
pappa told him not to come here today and go into hiding. I feel guilty, 
guilty because my inability to explain to him what I am doing may have 
intimidated him and subsequently, he has not come here to do his business 
today. I feel guilty because perhaps he lost his day’s income because of me. 
I am basically feeling damn guilty …

His name is Shahrukh. He sells tea on Nariman Point. Earlier, tea sellers 
would go around on their bicycles with huge aluminum water filters and sell 
tea. Ever since their eviction from the seafront, I find these men walking 
around with thermos flasks and asking visitors if they want tea/coffee.  
Shahrukh is perhaps about 7-8 years old. He normally wears denim jeans and a 
blue shirt. He is white, completely white skinned. And he has funny looks on 
his face – sometimes he is smiling, sometimes he is serious. I cannot 
comprehend him. He is a mystery. So when I cannot comprehend someone, I call 
him/her funny. But I believe that Shahrukh is very perceptive, very mature 
for his age. He is clever.
Yesterday, I went to the seafront looking out for him and there he was, 
right before me. I bought a cup of tea, very sugary and watery. I told him 
whether he would give me an interview. “I had seen you with the bhuttawala 
(i.e. Santhya). You were talking to him also nah?” he inquires with me. He 
thinks there is some kind of romance between Santhya and me. He smiles and 
tells me, “You wait here. He (i.e. Santhya) will also be here in sometime. 
Talk to him and go.”
Shahrukh’s parents are from Benaras. But he has been born and brought up 
here. “Mera pappa bhi idhar chai bechta hai (My father also sells tea here). 
I don’t go beyond the signal (opposite Air India building which is 
technically where Nariman Point actually begins). It is difficult to carry 
the thermos beyond that point and there is also harassment (what kind, I am 
not sure as of now). My father sells tea beyond.” Thus, it seems that father 
and son have marked out business territories. They must be entrepreneurs of 
some order!
Shahrukh’s main asset is his big thermos flask. It is larger than him, green 
in colour with designs made in gold. When he carries it, he almost leans to 
one side owing to the weight of the flask. By now, I think his gait has 
naturally become like that. “I come here by 4 or 5 PM and am here till 1 or 
2 AM,” Shahrukh informs me about his timings on the seafront.
“Why are you doing all this?” he asks me. “Do you write for a newspaper?” I 
want to explain to him what I am doing. I ask him if he knows about the 
Internet. He nods indifferently. Then I ask him if he knows what a computer 
is. “No,” he says candidly. I try to tell him that for the moment, everyone 
reads your story on my blog. Then I tell him that I am a student. I don’t 
think he is convinced because I myself am not convinced. Damn! Darn! The 
anxieties of being a researcher …
There is a brief interlude of silence between us. I become a bit patronizing 
and adult like and ask him whether he likes Shahrukh Khan. He is not 
interested in my question. I am embarrassed. We promise to meet around 4 PM 
tomorrow.
Today, I am here at the appointed hour. I am looking around here and there, 
expectantly, but he is not there. I am afraid that not only have I 
frightened him off, but also some of his other fellows. All kinds of 
speculations arise in my mind. After all, these are a surveilled people and 
they cannot trust anyone and everyone. Besides, I am not promising to be 
their saviour either. I have declared that I am not from any NGO or 
institution who will fight their case.
It is 4:25 PM. I am still waiting for him.

I begin to distract myself, look around here and there. A couple, 
middle-class and old, come and sit on the two benches diagonally opposite to 
me. They wipe the sweat on their face, drink some water from the bottle they 
are carrying inside their bags and look around. Gradually, they have turned 
their faces towards Hilton Towers and are looking at it intently. A bunch of 
three other men come and sit close to me. They also start commenting on 
Hilton Towers. It seems like Hilton represents a kind of aspiration of the 
middle-class in this city. It represents their desires and ambitions to have 
a home in a high-rise apartment, to live in an upmarket locality. Hilton has 
something about it which draws people’s attention towards it. I need to talk 
to people and find out what is it about Hilton that they look upto – is its 
sheer immensity, its size, its structure … what?

I am frustrated. It has been a hard day with appointments not kept. As I am 
sitting and trying to counsel myself, I hear the ring tone of a cell phone 
which is set to the song “Kiska hai yeh tumko intezaar main hoon nah (Who is 
it that you are waiting for when I am here)” from the blockbuster film Main 
Hoon Na. I turn and notice a man talking on his cell phone. I wonder whether 
this is some kind of providential cue to approach him and talk to him. I 
make my move. “I am only a first timer here. Actually I am not even from 
Bombay. I am from Indore in MP. Was in Bangalore for 6 months and have been 
in Mumbai for 2-3 months now,” he informs me when I ask him whether he 
frequently comes to the seafront. His name is Praveen. He works in the 
software sector. He is here today for an interview in one of the Nariman 
Point offices. “I like it here, at the sea. It is peaceful. Shaant hai (it 
is quiet and soothing). My friends had told me that when you go to Bombay, 
you must visit Nariman Point,” he goes on.
Praveen is only too happy to talk to me. He dislikes Bombay. “What rush, 
what crowd. I was frightened when I came here the first time. People have 
hectic and frenetic pace of life out here. It’s crazy. There is no time for 
relationships here. Everybody is in their own world altogether. Those who 
are old residents of Bombay are used to all of this. But for us newcomers, 
this is crazy. I got frightened when I first looked at the local train. I 
knew I couldn’t get into it. What dhkka mukki (push and jostle). Even if you 
can climb into the train easily without pushing and jostling, people are so 
used to it that they will do it irrespective. When I try to tell someone 
bhaisaheb, bhaisaheb, trying to calm the person down, this person will get 
inside the train and stare at me as if I am about to start a fight or 
something with him. I have learnt that in the local trains here, you don’t 
have to do anything to get in and get out; the crowds will do it all for 
you.” I swear upon the god I believe in, I did not provoke him on the local 
trains. He was forthcoming himself. What can I do if all that people talk to 
me about this city is its local trains???
Praveen went on talking to me. Perhaps in this city, I was the first 
stranger he had known who was interested in knowing his story. Who would 
care and why? Praveen explained his lifestyle to me. “I live in Goregaon and 
work in Andheri. Andheri is a damn crowded area, mad you can say. In a 
software firm, you usually work under a team leader. A whole week’s tasks 
are assigned to you. If you complete the work allotted to you in less than 
five days, it is not like additional work will be given to you. But work in 
the software sector gets boring after some point in time. Therefore you feel 
like moving out. Further, there is a lot of money you earn in the software 
sector and that too very quickly. Once you hit the 30 or 40 thousand mark 
per month, you want to spend and maintain your standard. After all, 33% of 
your income would go into paying taxes. So why not enjoy and make the most 
of things. But work in software is performance dependant. There is no 
security, like in the case of a government job. But in a government job, 
there is less money. For four years, you will keep on earning ten thousand 
whereas in the software firm, you will hit forty or fifty thousand in four 
years.” Praveen’s typical day begins when he enters office by 9 or 10 AM. He 
must report by 10 AM else he has to fill in a data sheet and give 
explanations. While the morning reporting time is fixed, there is no fixed 
time to finish work in the evening. Sometimes he leaves office at 9 or 10 
PM. Praveen sleeps his entire weekend. “Aur kya karein (What else to do)?” 
he shrugs and says, “The whole week you slog and weekend is the only time 
you have to yourself. So I sleep and sleep.” He is irked by the cost of 
living in this city. “Right now, I am paying 2.5 thousand for the little 
flat I am sharing in Goregaon. If I aspire to move to Andheri, the rent 
doubles and I have to pay 5k. And this place,” he says pointing to Nariman 
Point and Hilton Towers, “is only a dream. I can fantasize about wanting to 
rent a place here but can never reach here.” I identify with Praveen. In my 
college days, my dream was to be able to live at Nariman Point, to be close 
to the sea, to have my sanity and my calm in the right place!
“There is no climate in Bombay. See, it is November and there is no sign of 
winter. In our home in Indore, it would be freezing. Bangalore is also so 
much better.” When I ask him about public spaces in Bangalore, he only 
speaks of the malls. “Aur kya hain (What else is there?)?” he asks 
rhetorically. “But the problem in Bangalore, even though it is very nice, is 
that you have to know one of the two languages – either Kannada or English. 
You cannot speak in your own mother tongue, in Hindi. In Bombay, that’s the 
advantage. Speak in any language and it is fine. When you speak your own 
language, it feels nice.” I understand his small town mentality. He 
justifies, “It is only when you move out of home that you learn a lot of 
things.”
As I listen to him, I begin to visualize a map of the migration patterns in 
the country among the educated youth – from their home towns, they come to 
Bangalore to realize their aspirations and dreams and then maybe come to 
Mumbai. That’s the journey which perhaps everyone undertakes these days. Are 
they illegal migrants then? Why don’t we think of razing their settlements 
down too? I want to sit on a bulldozer and go on a rampaging spree!
Praveen’s aspiration is go back to his home in Indore. Life is much peaceful 
there. For now, he wants desperately to move to Pune because Pune is less 
hectic. It has its parallels with Bangalore. He just wants to move out of 
Bombay. “I have 2.6 years of experience in IT. Now, an IT Park is being 
established in Indore. I will have opportunities then. I want to go back.” 
Home … what dreams … what desires … all of this everyday!
As we talk, a boy selling peanuts comes by. Praveen insists on buying some. 
The boy is insisting that we take some of the peanuts. It will be his first 
sale of the day. I start to maintain my distance and not get too involved. 
Praveen has become insistent that I eat all of the peanuts. It is his big 
brother mentality and my Mumbai individuality that are clashing. I manage 
the situation for now. Then he asks if I want to have coffee. And I first 
refuse politely and then firmly. I start to get up. His concluding remarks 
are: “Food is another big problem in this city. I hate this vada-pav now. I 
am fed up of eating it. A good thali also costs fifty bucks here. How can I 
afford it everyday? That’s why I cook myself in the evenings.”
I tell him that I am going to look out for Shahrukh. He also gets up to 
leave. He couldn’t make it on time for his appointment today and does not 
know whether he will get leave tomorrow to come here again. We say bye and 
depart.
And I shall also depart here today, with all of these emotions and desires 
that I listen to and carry in myself everyday! Hush!!!





Zainab Bawa
Mumbai
www.xanga.com/CityBytes

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