Skip to main content

A Journey to Madh Island - Part 2

I came out of the Malad Station. It is a typical suburban station with a bazaar sprawling in its vicinity. A newspaper stand stood right next to a lamppost. I asked the person, “Where I can find the bus stop?” He had committed himself in reading the newspaper, without shifting his gaze he pointed straight towards the serpentine road that went into the market.

I started walking along the road on one side I could see the main entrance of the Malad Station and on the other series of Hotels. The hotels made way to the snacks and sweets centre. The air was filled with aroma of Gulab Jamuns, Jalebis, Dhokla, Samosas and other bucket load of calories. I was amazed with the volume being prepared in each store at the end of the street there was Soda pub where you could cool down your senses after a fiery intake.

I took a left turn. Now the street was full of apparel stores. Clothes for men, women and kids. Every store seemed to be busy with people buying something or the other. I could finally see a bus. I asked the driver, “Is the bus going to Madh Island?” “No, take a left down the street, you will find the bus.” He said. I started walking amidst the crowd. I was waiting at the bus stop with other passengers. Getting on the bus I sat near the window.

The traffic was moving at snail’s space. It was twelve in the noon the sun was directly overhead and was blazing incessantly. I had put on my white handkerchief as a bandana and was gazing past the window. The happenings on the road where slow paced. It took at least half an hour to traverse the first half a kilometer. Coming out of the traffic the bus waited for the signal to turn green. I could see an elegant cafe with suave decor.

The demographic of Malad city is dichotomous. Urban locality settled in the middle of the city and the villages along the coastal region. Situated in Northern Mumbai Madh Island is cluster of quaint fishing villages and farmlands. It is nestled by the Arabian Sea to the west and by Malad creek on the east. The bus passed through the city of Malad that has been growing in population and developing through the years. It is one of the fastest growing suburb in Mumbai. The city has been inhabited by people speaking Marathi, Malwani who are largely hindus and the Catholics.

The bus passed through the Hamala Naval Base. I could see their training grounds and open football fields. The air here was mixed with the sea breeze. Smell of dried fish caressed my nostrils relentlessly. The Palm trees ran along the sides of the road. Small shops were selling essentials. While a fisherman was enjoying his afternoon siesta. I could see the enormous Arabian Sea with its waves crashing along the Akasa beach. Small boys and girls in their colourful uniforms played on the streets and waved towards the bus.

I got down at the Madh Jetty. There was a small shop selling snacks and cold-drinks. A boat was about to leave the Madh island. The shore was lined up with colourful boats. The passengers where all seated in their place. I took the ticket and got on board. The boat took us to the other side of the shore. Small buildings coloured yellow, blue and white where clustered together around the coast. The area seemed to be unattractive and unscrupulous. I started walking in a way that said I know how to walk on the road. I went into the departmental store and asked, “What’s this place called?”. “This is Versova.” The person said. “This is Versova?!” I exclaimed as I had expected much more out of it.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Perfect Bowling Game

“Strike!” the screen flashed a fancy animation as the ball rammed into the pins scattering the formation to the ground. “Man, you are a game!” exclaimed Jay. I had scored the tenth strike in the row and was already feeling like Earl Anthony. I was just one strike away from the perfect game. I had to get the last one right. A million thoughts ran through my mind but only one echoed “Get the last one right”. It was a matter of seconds until I had the ball back in my hands. I was trying to think about my past throws and was wondering what made them tick. But I was having a tough time recollecting and playing out every throw in my mind. I had done something different every time the angle, the speed always had some sort of unique variation. I had to figure it out now, as the ball was in my hands, I had to get it right. One twenty seconds before the ball seemed like an extension of the arm but now it seemed to weigh a hundred ton, heavy with the burden of expectation all over it. The si
Post a Comment
Read more

Trek to Karnala Fort

The alarm buzzed at five in the morning. Lightening up a small part of the room. I woke up wrapped in the sheets in the comfort of my bed. It was dark outside. The occasional bark of the dog pierced through the silence of the early morning as I got ready for the trek. Surbhi had decided to organise a trek and had rallied everyone to join in. I always wanted to climb Karnala fort, I eagerly joined the gang. Many of our friends left the group as they preferred the prospect of watching a movie in the multiplex over trek in the nature’s abode. Having decided to meet at Kurla at seven in the morning. I was already running late for a 7:00 am local train. I reached Kurla at 7:30 am where Surbhi, Vishal and Karan where waiting for me. The fast local from Thane was crowded and with my mobile inside I couldn't pick any call. “You are late, we were almost leaving without you.” Vishal said in a mock anger. “Even I thought I wouldn’t make it too Kurla.” I said as we burst into laughter, h
Post a Comment
Read more

Two Earthen Pots

As I sit beside the balcony, I see two earthen pots one besides the other, light brown, freckled and same, but still there lies a difference none the less. There was a blossoming flower once, with its ripening petals of red, being watered daily it grew slowly, maturing into a mesmerising rose. But now in the earthen pot lies dried leaves, shrive l led petals, and lifeless roots, all turned into the dust, with one cruel swipe of death. Dancing to the tunes of wind, a sapling grows in the other earthen pot, watered with care and love, life finds its way out through the mud. Life and death is a cycle, one takes place after another, the old becomes one with the sands of time, and the new blossoms with eternity.
Post a Comment
Read more