Happy Birthday To You

Everyone who has lived in Mumbai, surely has a story to tell about the Marine Drive. Stories of rainy   evenings with waves splashing on the promenade. Stories of college friends reuniting after a decade.     Stories of proposals, stories of betrayals, stories of just good times with friends and stories of     drunken late nights at the edge. 

Perhaps it’s the calm ocean on the one side that contrasts with the bustling city on the other that makes people reflect upon their place in this city. This city that hosts many universes within the same geographical boundaries, is home to a multitude of stories, that hardly  ever intermingle. 

Every evening, the Marine Drive is the stage for these stories to be told. It buzzes along late into the night until just a few voices can be heard.

But if you ever wake up there, it’s a different scene altogether.

It’s a dusky blue dawn at the marine drive, quiet, unlike the colourful night it just saw. But as the sea recedes through the tetrapods, life begins to crawl in the wet cement pits. It’s not only the crabs picking at the waste the city left behind, but children, scampering through those rocks with their agile bare feet. These are the same quiet, mucky little kids that one saw last night, selling cigarettes, now in their element as they chatter loudly and dive into that rocky marsh to fish out all sorts of weird trash. They speak a dialect that one can’t really identify as one specific language, but one often understands most of what’s being said.

Budhya was the leader of a pack of those kids. He was almost eight now and so he along with Sharuk, was to take care of the girls and the little ones. This meant a little bit of responsibility but also a lot of freedom!

Being a kid in that urban tribe was not easy. But as some kids anywhere do, Budhya and his gang made the most of it anyway. They made trash picking into a treasure hunt as the pits near the ramp offered a lot of hidden treasures that the city folk had lost to those awkward pits. These children were the only ones with feet small enough to fit those gaps, so they were the only ones who could claim them! What made the picking exciting was that the adults from the tribe were interested only in plastics, papers, metals and direct cash like wallets and stuff but there was always a chance of discovering something cool, like a toy plane or some strange action figure. All of those things had the familiar sea worn look, but what made them priced possessions for them was their rare and alien quality.

The picking would go on till the sun rose over the buildings at around 11 AM and it was too hot to scavenge. Afternoons were the best time because they got to fight over who gets to keep what, they got to have lunch and they got some spare time. Most children preferred to sleep but some wacky ones liked adventure!

 It was the pleasant afternoon of 25^th November 2008 and everyone had had their fill for the day. While most kids lazed around on the warm ledge, Chirkut and Soni and Sharuk  were staring at Budhya to see what adventure he had in mind for them today…

Chirkut was still nibbling on the extra paav that Sharuk gave him and Soni was getting bored of all the waiting. Sharuk flicked his bollywood hair and began humming a tune that everyone knew would soon turn into a loud, loud song. Budhya took this as his cue and finally said, “Pichchar!”

Chirkut quickly rose to his full three foot tall height and with one hand still firm on the paav grabbed soni’s hand with the other. Budhya adoringly smacked him on the head and said “Chutia, time hai abhi!”[AP3] . As chirkut was about to show his protest with a short loud wail, Soni came up with a suggestion, “chal na, station chalte!”[AP4] 

While the movies were the star attraction, watching the crowd at the station was no less fun. And what’s more, it was free! But there was always that other problem.

Budhya thought for a moment and decided he wasn’t going to let such a lovely afternoon go to waste. So he too said, “Chal!” [AP5] The gang set out to their spot near Asiatic where they could see all the crowds, the one emerging out of the station, the one standing at the bus stop the one waiting at Eros.

No matter how many times you did it, it was always amusing to see the various species of city folk doing typical yet fascinating things! Middle aged people keeping a sharp eye on who’s trying to screw them over when the bus came, college girls playing with their fancy phones and colourful footwear as they waited for some boys to arrive, Smokers gossiping in one corner, checking the girls out, it was a strangely interrelated yet quite distant universe for each of those species.

While Budhya was busy telling Chirkut about which of these species liked to buy what kind of stuff, Soni was concentrating on a girl with sunglasses, who had particularly pretty, flowing hair. What she didn’t notice was that the city girl too, was looking at her behind her sunglasses. When Soni untied her damp tangled hair and tried to let it flow like the city girl, the city girl smiled gently and walked to her and offered her a candy. Soni felt so thrilled and shy at the same time that she could have run away, but instead she just froze. The girl said, “lo na!” [AP6] Soni looked at Sharuk with a bewildered smile as she silently accepted it. Sharuk knew this wasn’t a good thing, but he couldn’t think of wiping that smile off Soni’s face. The city girl smiled, shuffled Soni’s hair and walked away, playing with her phone again.

Suddenly Budhya smelt trouble. A bunch of flower−selling beggar children accompanied by one older boy were walking towards them. Budhya knew that he was at fault, breaching their territory, but he was confident that none of them had tried to sell anything or beg. As Budhya geared up for a fight, Sharuk came to him and said, “chal na rada hai.” [AP7] Budhya got the hint so he told Soni and Chirkut to take the fast lane, and he with Sharuk ran into the opposite direction.

Budhya hated it when the fun came to an abrupt end like this. But now that Sharuk and he were free of the excess baggage, they knew exactly what movie they were going to watch! Just around the VT corner, there was an old brick theatre with one dingy screen that had been showing Rajni’s Padayappa for some record time. The ticket was just 5 rupees and they could watch the movie as many times as they liked! For Budhya like many before him, Rajni was the one true superstar, the ultimate hero, the man who owned this world. He was excited each one of the 237 times that he saw the movie. He didn’t know a word of Tamil, but he could repeat each one of Rajni’s punch lines to the word. Sharuk could repeat all the songs. Together, they could have enacted the entire movie to an audience!

Budhya had even learnt that match−stick trick that we always think only Rajni can pull. This wasn’t just a trick for him though, it was an occupational skill.

At Marine Drive, anybody who smokes even occasionally feels like lighting up when they face the city and feel the wind in their hair. But the irony is that it seems impossible to light a match! You can try anything, wax matchsticks or Zippo lighters if you like; the overwhelming breeze wipes off even a flicker of a flame.

Budhya could pull the Rajni match stick−stunt in the face of that breeze.

When the movie got over, the sun had entered the cinemascope view of the marine drive, which meant that Budhya and Sharuk had to run to reach the collection spot on time. The sacks that were filled with trash in the morning now came bearing many goodies that they had to sell to the people haunting the marine drive at night, looking for some fresh air. The novelty for the evening was the flashing devil’s horns that were the current rage. While most kids kept them in the sack, Budhya made Chirkut wear them, and got him to sell his share too. A tiny little kid with those horns was a sure sale and Budhya knew it. His study of the city folk paid off here in the evening because with just one look, he could tell which bunch of people would buy which of the stuff he had in his sack. This was the only time when he interacted with the city folk that were so familiar to him through the trash that they threw.

He spoke very little usually, through nods and shakes of the head whenever possible and a few scattered words when necessary. Most city folk too kept only to business. There would always be one ass every now and then that would want to know how old he was, where he was from and other shit. I mean if it was a pretty girl asking these questions, it was at least worth staying there to look at her, to smell her perfume and wait for that unusual soft and smooth touch; but single lonely guys were just a waste of selling time. In such cases, Budhya would blurt out some Hindi film dialogues. Such as today when this talkative man, looking for something to talk to, asked him where he lived, Budhya said without a moment’s hesitation “Apna kya hai seth, footpath hi apna makaan hai aur asmaan hi apna makaam hai!” [AP8] and walked away from the awestruck guy without stopping to return his change.

If there was one thing that adults had taught Budhya about the city folk, it was ‘keep your interaction with them to the minimum.’ Do not tell them anything about where you live, where you come from, who sells what. Never get into a vehicle with any one of them. No matter how nice they seemed. Stay away from large groups of men.

The only city specie that had some level of human contact with them were the cops and they were quite an unpleasant lot by themselves.

Selling went on till late as usual till the cops had driven away the last drunkard and the entire marine drive was Sharuk’s auditorium. It was the breezy winter night of 25^th November 2008 and Sharuk sang until a cop almost wacked him with his cane. They quickly dove into the tetrapods and ran deep inside them showing him the finger. This was their time to catch some breeze of their own and no cop was going to take it away from them! Budhya laid out his earnings of the day in front of him and Sharuk continued his concert, a bit less loudly now.

Budhya liked this part. The glitter around the shore and the sporadic glimpses of light coming from the horizon. Sharuk’s singing was getting better too

Suddenly , Budhya saw some movement. It looked like a strange big fish swimming slightly above the water. Sharuk had noticed it too and he sat down with Budhya looking at it with rapt attention. A torchlight lit only for a second on the thing and they realized it was a boat, but without any lights or sails. ‘abbe smuggler rahega !’ [AP9] Budhya said wisely to Sharuk but Sharuk had no interest left in the thing now that it wasn’t some fantastic fish. When the boat sailed away without making bay, they too decided to call it a day and retired to the shades.

The next day was usual. Selling was going on pretty well for a week day. But around 9:30 PM when sluggish crowds came to lighten their bellies after a hearty dinner, a strange hurry began to overcome the sidewalk. The crowds that lingered around purposelessly there were beginning to rush. Almost everyone was talking over the phone. Soon the brisk walks turned into panic run. People were flocking towards the station. A wooden plank on the sidewalk fell with a loud thud and the crowd burst into a chaos. The children quickly hopped on to the ramp. This is where they met when they smelt trouble. But this crowd panicking and running was stranger than anything else they had seen. Chirkut suddenly yelled in his most excited voice and pointed at a blaring car zipping through the commotion. The children had seen cars race on that street several times, but this car was being followed by a fancy police car. Budhya expected the car to blow up or twirl like in one of his Rajini movies, but it just kept racing.

Some adults came later and took their sacs and told them to stay together. This meant only one thing. For the first time, all of them had an evening off on the same day!

They were told to run back to the shades but some of them lingered around to see what was going on. Their regular hang outs were beyond the barricades, and the places looked completely empty and rather new. As the night grew darker, the security started getting even denser. There were all sorts of cops. A dark van stopped and out came an army of cops that all looked like film stars. 

The regular cops that were usually so scary to them, today looked like sweepers cleaning up the crowd for those movie cops to perform. They put up barricades and drove everyone away rapidly. These kids who know how to tackle a coming wave, tackled the waves of the crowd and stayed to watch all this action. There was a lot of drama, but very little information. Budhya stuck his head through the barricades to hear what the cops were discussing. They didn’t even stop to tell him off. This must have been important. A beggar kid from the station told him that some kind of shooting was going on. Budhya was thrilled!

“As you can see in the distance, flames are rising from the Taj Mahal hotel. The terrorists have taken up a stronghold in…” a woman journalist was talking away in English to a camera. “A camera!” Sharuk said. Budhya’s eye glowed. He quickly put his head back into the barricade and asked a hawaldar “kaunsa picchar ka shooting hai?" [AP10] the cop was so furious that he hit the barricade with the cane. An older kid pulled him back and said ‘shooting naiye chutiya firing huela hai idhar.’ [AP11] He literally dragged them out of there and asked them to go home. The night was bustling with a completely different crowd. Big noisy vans, blinking lights from police cars, so many cameras and mics! The kids hung back all night. Some sold cigarettes to the journalist crowd behind the barriers. Budhya just watched this development with wide eyes.

They were told not to go scavenging that morning, which meant that the morning was free too! All the time in the world and nowhere to go. Other children seemed to enjoy the free time, but Budhya was beginning to get anxious for more business. Adults certainly wanted this to get over soon.

In the evening, some of the barricades were removed and some people other than the camera people or the cops started to gather up. This meant that there would be a little selling to do! Selling was light. Mostly cigarettes. The crowd was smaller, but they were all very quiet. Something was happening far away in some buildings. People were talking excitedly amongst themselves. Something had scared the different species of city−folks equally. The adults in the tribe too, looked confused and worried. Some were even seen talking to cops. Something big had happened.

Much late in the night a man in a group asked Budhya if he had a candle. Budhya didn’t know what it meant. The guy tried to explain that it’s something you light, but Budhya couldn’t understand what exactly he was referring to. When they returned to the shades, Budhya asked Sharuk what a candle was. Sharuk told him it’s a small mombatti that you light up and then blow off and then sing “happy birthday to you.” Budhya wondered what that guy would do with one of those over there.

And what a miracle! The next evening, when the movie seemed to be over and barricades were removed, they were all given some candles to sell, along with the cigarettes. They were told to sell them for five rupees a piece and not to entertain any negotiation. Budhya thought this would be a difficult thing to sell for that kind of money. But that night, the mood was different at the marine drive. Many people had turned up with many candles. Many others were joining in. The candles were being sold much faster than the cigarettes. It wasn’t even 9 o clock and almost all of the children had already sold all of their candles!

There was something else. Not one person who bought the candles tried to negotiate. Some even gave them more money than they asked for. This was like nothing Budhya had ever seen. It was hard to tell which person belonged to what specie of the city folk. People were starting random conversations with anyone around them and even Chirkut was talking to random people. A lot of people were trying hard to light their candles but no one could strike a match.

Budhya felt like the one true superstar himself, when he lit the candles for them. There was nothing left to sell, but the children didn’t feel like leaving. After all, if they left, who would light those candles, that seemed to be so important to everyone tonight?

There were no rules of engagement with the city folk today. It wasn’t the regular crowd of unrelated groups secretly irked by each other’s presence, it was like one big group that was strangely happy, taking comfort in strangers’ company.

The marine drive looked like a little festival that night as it lit up in the sparkling melted whites of the candles around it. The children had also found something more fun than selling. They ran around the marine drive lighting candles that had gone off. Nobody told them off; on the contrary, some people gave them money or bought something for them just to show their appreciation.

Budhya loved this night! He felt important. He took it upon himself to make sure no candle was left unlit at any point of time. It was like he and his troop were on a mission. When the night grew dark, and people left for their homes, the Queen’s Necklace Marine Drive kept sparkling through the running feet of insane children. When they finally grew tired, there was just one candle left burning in the entire stretch. All of them gathered around it. They saw it till the flame went away into a single line of fragrant smoke. It felt strangely sad that the day was over, they looked at each other, clueless about what to do next, and as the smoke rose, Sharuk sang softly, Happy birthday to you, till his song evaporated with it.

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This is a part of a proposed anthology of stories. Mumbai, one of the world’s most populous cities, is home to many layers of cultures and subcultures. Usually, these layers don’t mix. They live in the same vicinity and do pass by each other, but they rarely go beyond operational encounters. The terrorist attack of 2008 was one such rare occasion that brought these layers together. The idea was to curate stories from these different layers to stitch together a larger story. This was one of those stories, told from the perspective of one layer that usually doesn’t get noticed.

 [AP1]Literally means minuscule/ minnie

 [AP2]Refers to Hindi superstar Shahrukh Khan

 [AP3]There's still time you dumbfuck!

 [AP4]Let's go the (railway) station

 [AP5]Let's go

 [AP6]Please take

 [AP7]Let's go, there's going to be trouble here

 [AP8]We are the children of the city Sir, the pavement is our home and the sky is our town!

 [AP9]Must be a smuggler

 [AP10]Which movie are you shooting for?

 [AP11]They are not shooting a movie you idiot, there was a gun fight here!