I don’t search for homer’s ithaca for I’ve got my beloved mumbai
They all speak of her with a glint in their eyes. Some claim her to be the very manifestation of a Dark Force which devoured them and their dreams that are now forever lost. Others revere her as their “Karmabhoomi”-land of deeds. In the fertile soils of this ancient ground many continue to sow the seeds of their dreams while many others get buried themselves.
Great invaders have come and gone, inhuman barbarians marauded this little haven, ambitious traders have looked at buying out her bountiful and priceless lands and yet in spite of all these enduring years, she still stands.
The Portuguese called her by many names, from Bombaim to Boon Bay; the British anglicized her as Bombay. She was finally rechristened as Mumbai in 1995, named after the Koli goddess Mumbadevi.
Right from the Maurya Empire, the Mughals, the Portuguese and the British Raj to the recent barbaric terrorists, all have tried to capture her, with sheer force or fear. None have lasted but my Mumbai lives; the Maximum City breathes, on the verge of exploding any moment, but still breathes.
To describe this city of seven islands is rather an insult to her enigmatic aura. Trying to comprehend her mysterious ways is futile; conquering her labyrinthine nooks and corners is at best an ambition in vain. The only way of rather winning over Mumbai is by surrendering to her, just immersing yourself and becoming one with her soils.
This is the very city of infinite gods, the city of gold; the city of the doomed and old. They all live here under the one night sky and blazing sun, both mortal and immortal entities, legends and wasted lives. All of them breathe in the salty breeze as given out by the surrounding Arabian Sea. This is Mumbai, the city of chaos.
For endless years scholars have speculated and debated about the exact location of the great land of Ithaca, the kingdom of legendary king Odysseus. The legend of Ithaca was written by Great Homer himself, no less. But now I care not if I speak blasphemous words when I state this. My beloved Mumbai is far superior than any mighty Kingdom can ever be. While the so called scholars continue their search for Ithaca, the revolutionaries’ strive to create their utopia; I rest peacefully in the fertile soils of my beloved Mumbai, my mother, my darling.
They all speak of her with a glint in their eyes. Some claim her to be the very manifestation of a Dark Force which devoured them and their dreams that are now forever lost. Others revere her as their “Karmabhoomi”-land of deeds. In the fertile soils of this ancient ground many continue to sow the seeds of their dreams while many others get buried themselves.
Great invaders have come and gone, inhuman barbarians marauded this little haven, ambitious traders have looked at buying out her bountiful and priceless lands and yet in spite of all these enduring years, she still stands.
The Portuguese called her by many names, from Bombaim to Boon Bay; the British anglicized her as Bombay. She was finally rechristened as Mumbai in 1995, named after the Koli goddess Mumbadevi.
Right from the Maurya Empire, the Mughals, the Portuguese and the British Raj to the recent barbaric terrorists, all have tried to capture her, with sheer force or fear. None have lasted but my Mumbai lives; the Maximum City breathes, on the verge of exploding any moment, but still breathes.
To describe this city of seven islands is rather an insult to her enigmatic aura. Trying to comprehend her mysterious ways is futile; conquering her labyrinthine nooks and corners is at best an ambition in vain. The only way of rather winning over Mumbai is by surrendering to her, just immersing yourself and becoming one with her soils.
This is the very city of infinite gods, the city of gold; the city of the doomed and old. They all live here under the one night sky and blazing sun, both mortal and immortal entities, legends and wasted lives. All of them breathe in the salty breeze as given out by the surrounding Arabian Sea. This is Mumbai, the city of chaos.
For endless years scholars have speculated and debated about the exact location of the great land of Ithaca, the kingdom of legendary king Odysseus. The legend of Ithaca was written by Great Homer himself, no less. But now I care not if I speak blasphemous words when I state this. My beloved Mumbai is far superior than any mighty Kingdom can ever be. While the so called scholars continue their search for Ithaca, the revolutionaries’ strive to create their utopia; I rest peacefully in the fertile soils of my beloved Mumbai, my mother, my darling.
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