The Darkness of Citylights

It was 5:30 pm and I left the office in a hurry that evening because I was really hungry. I got a 'Vada Pav' before I jumped inside the local train to head home; and before I could start eating, a stone of thought hit me forming a chain of overthinking, it was about her, Kreha ... Kreha Raghuvanshi, she was ( I mean yaa she's still alive though, lol) a girl hailing from Visakhapatnam. Exactly a year back from now she came to the City of dreams -Mumbai, just like another thousands of people here, also she was here to build a life for her dreams. She was a great animator and a brilliant logo designer and joined my office directly as a full-time employee with those exquisite skills. I was in an analyst position, and she in the creative field, obviously there was zero interaction but I had somehow managed to make a conversation with her through mutual groups of our office.

She had a great learning spirit and with Marathi speakers all around, she tried to learn that language too. She struggled to learn Marathi being a Punjabi-South Indian though. Kreha, that beautiful soul who was a friend to all, everybody waved at her. 

Everybody wanted to speak to her. But she felt something different, something opposite. She started cutting off with people, although she cheerfully smiled and asked everyone their whereabouts. Her words never echoed the happy spirit she had. 

The dullness of the city slowly caught her soul. She started feeling drained out and really low. Maybe that was because she moved into a new city all alone. The strangeness of staying in a city is that to even get to the fresh air places like gardens and open grounds, you have to go through the dust, the traffic and honks - both the times, be it heading in or out. It's an undeniable fact. 

She was so frustrated by the corporate life, she even wanted to opt in for 'work-from-home', but knowing that it'd lead to deduction in her salary, she kept quiet. She wanted to live in her company provided apartment and used to feel helpless, to say the least. I wanted to talk to her about it, but my hands were tied because of keeping the company's professionalism policy. 

"Why am I here?" The question mark of this vague circle of life that she was heading and those Huge wh-questions started poking her eyes. 

Marines were her answer. As a famous quotation read: "In a city where anything and everything can change the sea is a constant." 

She used to go there and sit for hours, just like many other broken souls next to her. Kreha felt lost while walking in and out of the station in a crowd, a crowd she hated and felt suffocated in. Walking to the auto booth, and then to the station, she always searched for a home that reminded her of her own. In a cityscape full of illusions and dim lights, nothing looked distinct to her. 

Nevertheless, Kreha kept moving forward with life. Soon came the festival of Ganesh Chaturthi. The huge exertion to carry Ganpati Bappa to home and make mandaps for him had begun. She tried a lot to enjoy it, but with strangers and noise all around… It got on her nerves. 

The loud infamous noises don't just catch the ear, they have the ability to tear those sensitive drums. And that was just another cultural shock enough to make her more anxious. 

She had started adjusting slowly and it was her third month in the city. But now came her main problem, Food!

Being a Punjabi, food was her thing, and then, being born in the south made her extremely cautious about it. 'Bahut bhukh lagi hai yaar,' i.e I'm really hungry, was her favourite line for every single day. After a day's struggle or even before the work the famous food vada pav is a saviour for every Mumbaikar. But it ain't healthy when consumed daily, as she felt so… Kreha kept searching for options in those nutty bars, from dry fruits to seasonal fruits, and even searching for organic food café around her. She was mocked for being a "Fussy Foodie Freak".

Maybe she was lucky enough to find healthy alternatives but something was missing. Her soul wasn't happy, just like the unhealthy appetite, the satisfaction and the taste of happiness from her life had vanished alongside her intake of sugar.

Though city people try so hard for health, something is always amiss. The short breezes on the road carry more CO2 than the air. 

"Next Local coming at 11:48

Will halt on XYZ stations

Final station Churchgate... please mind the gap between the footboard and platform while alighting the train" 

The station announcement at Bandra happened out loud. 

'It's 11:46 a.m. and I'm really hungry.'

Kreha was famished with hunger.

'Should I buy those chips?

Vada pav? Popcorn? But I just had an apple and I'm really tired of eating them every damn day. I don't want my taste buds to die,' Kreha groaned. 

And her stomach growled. 

It wasn't the peak hour's time so she could get in due to low rush. 

She saw people around eating vada pav, chips and peanuts. That Just made her more hungry ... Hangry

'What should I eat? Arghh God! She anguished sigh of disappointment.'

One just another day, in the beautiful rainy season in Mumbai. When returning home, due to heavy rains and lightning, Kreha got stuck in an elevator with an eight-year-old boy, he had a ball in his hand 'thak...thak thak' the noise his ball was making while colliding with those walls of the elevator.  

While her stomach was growling yet again. 

'Do you have something to eat?' She asked that boy out of nowhere.

He smiled and asked, 'Are you Hangry, Didi?' With a laugh then handed her a muffin filled with jaggery and honey with layers of date and cashews. She ate one, she ate two… surprised with the taste and realizing the nutritional content. That small muffin had a homely feeling, something she was pining for since months!

She asked him, 'Where did you get this from? These are handmade! Does your momma make it?'

He laughed and said, 'Chill Didi! An old lady who stays on the ground floor. She makes it, she's our favourite aunty,'

And the elevator turned on and they both walked out on their respective floors. 

She almost forgot it for a few days, but as necessity is the mother of invention, and the call from that taste of health kept ringing in her ears, she took out time and knocked on the door of the ground floor's flat. 

Mrs Shete stayed there. As the door opened, Kreha saw a Goon, fair, medium lengthened lady who she looked pale and weak, and stood in a bad posture having big dark bags beneath those deep brown and beautiful eyes. Her freckled nose was red, she smiled at her in the most purest possible way and with her Bandra accent said, 'Yes... come in my child ' but her voice had gasps. 

'I just wanted to buy a few packets of your muffins, I am in a rush,' Kreha nervously replied. 

'Oh haha!' She laughed. 'No, my child. I make them for the children of our society, I don't sell them.' 

Mrs. Shete further said, 'Yes I have a few, I made them last week though,' she smiled again.

'Oh please give me those, I urgently need them. How much will be the pay?' She hurriedly asked. 

'No, my child, I don't sell them… wait I will put them in a box and give you,' she said. And she brought them in no time to handover her and said, I will make more for you, my child. 

'Have it my child, may God bless you! '

Obviously kreha was awestruck, abiding a most grateful bye, she left to her work

Mrs shete, a lady whose smile held many mysteries, the biggest one being - Where is her family?, anyone might say maybe settled in some foreign country and sending her the money to survive here in this city. Alone, yes, but was that the thing? No one knows, Kreha started going to her house everyday, starting from a few minutes to hours, and sometimes even days. 

Kreha turned really healthy and happy, her cheeks started glowing with vibrancy, her smile turned like a rainbow in the dark clouds. But what was going on there on the isolated ground floor's flat was really dubious, yet I felt happy for her, nevertheless.

Kreha had learnt many truths about that lady, about Life and wrote them in her diary, before she could convey any of them to me. Mrs Shete died of a heart attack. Neighbours along with Kreha performed her death rituals in a Christian way. Her heart or rather her soul broke when she saw her laying in a casket. 

Kreha resigned two days later, and booked her tickets back to Visakhapatnam. 

A day before her departure, her story read "I'm done with the darkness of the city lights." 

I texted her, "Why? What happened and Why are you leaving?"

With a smile emoticon, the other morning she texted, 'I don't want the kids of my colony to witness another Mrs Shete's Death at my home. Following those dreams on the hopeless roadways I can't build dusty and isolated highways where no one walks, making the ones who care for me fill those eyes in a tearful wait ' with a Blank DP. 

Maybe she let go of all opportunities the dream city had in store for her. But while she left, she made sure that she wouldn't become one amongst those children who live a happily settled life miles away from parents...in a way becoming indirect killers of them. As they live each day swallowing pills of loneliness. If only one could see beyond the money those parents receive; for how much they await for Love...

Before movies, we all see an ad for how Smoking Kills. 

No one ever speaks of how much "LONELINESS KILLS!"