So, at the outset, let me say I'm done imploding. This is explosion time. No more clichu00c3u00a9s u00e2u0080u0094 'The people have resilience', or 'They went back to work the next morning'
Illustration/Uday Mohite
So, at the outset, let me say I'm done imploding. This is explosion time. No more clichés — 'The people have resilience', or 'They went back to work the next morning'. It sounded heroic in the 90s… now it just sounds extinct. I was built in a certain way, with a certain constitution, a certain personality, nature and nurture combining beautifully in a fifty-fifty sharing. I accepted that selflessness and sacrifice came with the territory. And, I long realised that gratitude isn't in our DNA.
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But, at some point, I got thinking, when will there be give-back, what's the return gift? I got the feeling of being taken for granted. I've been quiet, I've been patient, I've been welcoming. I've been the base on which settlers have come, the home that welcomes immigrants, the soil on which sons are born, the ground on which girls are nurtured. And, I've allowed for adoption, accepted that the 'can't hack it in your city, come to the land of opportunity' motto. But, see now I'm feeling messed with. By both insiders and outsiders. My land is being routed, all its natural goodness is being sucked out, its treasures being steadily ransacked.
I accepted the 1992-93 unrest for what it was. Neighbours ostensibly living in harmony, erupted for a brief period of disharmony. This was a blip, I rationalised. A small spike in an otherwise peaceful landscape. I was wrong.
I'll tell you what I will not accept:
1. When the lines between cosmopolitanism and casteism get blurred. Don't bring your communal hatred here. Don't create your little ghettos, piranhas in your small pond.
2. When corruption overflows its limit. How dare you build your structures on my earth without proper licences in place, putting my people at risk with engulfing flames and unsteady structures? How dare you feel entitled, when you don't have a clear title for anything?
3. Overbridges collapsing in spite of warnings, potholed surfaces that resemble the moon's crater.
I wasn't built for your corruption, and casteism. Or aggression.
I'm saying don't make me your playground for peeves, your battleground for skirmishes. I'm saying 'take your problem' outside. Don't turn me into the Palestine of the sub-continent. Don't think you can walk in here, hire hoodlums and just hold me to ransom smashing up buses, stone pelting, bringing the city to its knees, closing it down because you feel wronged. Who's going to pay for the damage you've caused?
You see, I used to be avuncular. But, you're slowly turning me into Atilla the Hun. And I'm beginning to feel like Armageddon.
I'm sorry, who am I, you ask? Is that not obvious? Did you not figure it out? I'm Bombay, I'm Mumbai, I'm Bambai, I'm the city that you live in, the metropolis that's reared you. But, I'm not anymore the parent that you can mess with.
I'm done with your aggression… your angst, your avarice… and your anarchy.
So, I'll say again, don't take me for granted. This is a first warning, I won't repeat myself.
Rahul da Cunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62@gmail.com
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