Mumbai memories

Last night, I dreamed I was in Mumbai. 

On the promenade that they call Marine drive, where the waves crash against the breakers, where we see a small boat in yonder, where we see the buildings on the other side, and where we've seen many sunsets. Marine drive-where we've run many times, early in the mornings, watching the sun peep from the clouds, hear the shrill call of birds, wave to other fellow runners, and familiar faces. Marine drive which stretches for 2.5 miles along the ocean, where cars zoom past, where my running community would organize their monthly runs. Marine drive, which would look mystical in the rains, where I'd sit for hours gazing at the ocean post a run, where we'd gather with runner friends for a photo shoot. A place where we'd get lost in the sound of waves or the cacophony of human chatter, or the traffic. Its strange how there would be noise and yet we would enjoy some solitude. 

Last night I dreamed I was running on Marine drive, smiling and waving at fellow runners. Its been three years now since I last visited. March 2019. The pandemic set in, lives were taken, borders were ceased. Even though things opened in between, I was enrolled in the MFA program, my daughter had school.  I often long for those days in Mumbai-a place where I had a community, friends, my job as a journalist, interviewing authors. No doubt, I have achieved a lot after coming to California-taking up writing seriously, authored a non fiction book, completed many running and triathlon events, enrolled into an MFA program. And yet, I feel this void. Like something is missing from my life. 

Lately, I've been looking outside my window, at the trees and birds. Sometimes I feel as though I am back in my apartment in Mumbai which overlooked trees as well. When I look at the buildings in SFO, I am reminded of the buildings in Mumbai-on Peddar road, Malabar hills, Powai. Everything I see tends to make me think about Mumbai. I miss the EDM concerts, hanging out with pals. The homesickness came in phases during the fall semester, but its worsened over the winter break. Three years is a long stretch, I cannot go now even I want to, thanks to the new variant. Besides, my spring semester begins in a couple of days. 

I reflect often to see what I really miss. The answer isnt easy. As I dig deep, I realize that despite having lived here for almost 5 years, I haven't made too many friends like I did in mumbai,despite trying my best. First at Stanford, then with an Indian triathlon group. I wasnt sure why I felt like an outlier? In the first case, I wasnt domesticated enough, I was more purpose driven and sports oriented, didnt have time to sit around and gossip. In the second instance, I wasnt a tech engineer, neither did I work for Google or Apple,which seemed to be the requirement for the group to connect with you. Just when I was getting to know another Tri group in silicon valley, the pandemic set in. It was tough to make connections even in the writing community on zoom. Even if you did, it appeared to be tough to sustain them. Keeping in touch was a two way process and one gets tired after a point, when you are the only one taking the initiative. 

On further retrospection, I wonder if living far from the city is posing these hurdles. Perhaps the fact I'm at a different phase in my life-with a family and a kid is creating this barrier. Something I wonder if my sports background makes it challenging for people to connect with me. I'm not sure if this is winter depression or homesickness. I cannot deny that I've been facing mental health issues. During the Hot chocolate run packet pick up, I was reminded of  the Mumbai marathon packet pick up which happened around the same time in Mumbai. A wave of nostalgia took over as I tried blinking back tears. Even at the start line, I missed running with my husband and other friends. Yesterday at the 49ers game, I reminisced all those sports parties we'd throw for our friends in Mumbai. 

While I try and keep a smiling face, try and stay positive with people I meet, inside I'm still hurting. It feels like someone has sliced my heart with a knife and the pain wouldn't easily heal. No one has uttered an unkind word, I've met some people over the break. Yet, I feel this hollow feeling inside. Perhaps a short visit to India would heal my mental health. I wonder if this pain is because of some past life Karma. I'm trying to deal with it in every possible manner. Write about it, workout, watch sports-Australian open, NBA, NFL, reading, watching Indian movies where stories revolve around Mumbai, and music. Some of the movies include Jhankar Beats, Dil Chahta Hai, Rock On, Jaane tu ya jaane naa. 

Just as I was writing this, a friend of mine from India called. What a pleasant surprise. It felt good to catch up with him after a while. These little moments cheer me up before I sink into depression again. This too shall pass. I believe I am strong enough to not let anything linger too long. Meanwhile I can just hope that my dream will come true. Perhaps that dream of visiting Mumbai will come true someday. And I will find myself on the promenade called Marine drive where the waves rush to the shore to welcome me, I'll meet my runner friends, cliock pictures, and create new memories. Like the Aerosmith song goes, I can only Dream on.