Driving Back Home

We recently moved to Mumbai. For me, it was all about going back home, at least as far as telling people was concerned. I never had a concept of 'Mumbai is my home'. Home was the few walls my family stayed inside and I couldn't care less about where the four walls were situated. Home was inside those four walls, period. But Mumbai was my first city and shaped me up to a great extent. And its a lot easier agreeing with people with a nod than launching into an explanation every time they said 'Oh, so you are going back home."

Nodding is wise. Mostly.

So well, I came back home to bad weather, bad roads, but not as bad as Hyderabad roads, good traffic sense and a respect for lane discipline. When we set out from Hyderabad in our car, who is called Baanke Bihari (he hates being called just a car, like calling your friend a human being), we were told we would love the ride. smooth, no traffic roads that take you straight to Mumbai.

Perhaps we took the wrong highway or something, although we did get 'home' eventually, but what sad roads! Did the rest of you Indians outside of Mumbai know that our radio stations in Mumbai never miss a chance to rig the establishment about Mumbai's bad roads? Now I am guessing Mumbaiites have only travelled between NY/LA/SF etc. and Mumbai. Because if you are like me and went to Hyderabad instead, you would bend down and kiss the Mumbai roads. Far fewer potholes, sensible people who do not cut lanes and do not honk the smithereens out of you should your car suddenly stall. Driving in Hyderabad is definitely something I do not miss.

It suffices to say that the Hyderabad Mumbai highway sucked, very often, we ended up holding onto Baanke Bihari for dear life while he swerved and rushed and sped past like lightening. There were narrow lanes, two-way traffic, cows on the roads, people on the roads, who think showing a palm will halt the world's most powerful forces, cars cutting into lanes, traffic jams because of railway level crossings, and...oh, and the heat. It deserves it's own paragraph.

Such insane heat. The prime characteristic of Mumbai in October, the famous season of receding monsoons, when it gets suckier than ever. You perspire until you forget if you ever had a bath. You feel flushed and  dehydrated and you want to slap anything that remotely shows signs of life. So, its hot and dusty and the roads are bad and you reach home late but you arrive looking sane nevertheless. Because, in the final stretch, the roads redeem themselves. You get on the Mumbai-Pune expressway and life is perfect again :)