Mumbai. A city of Acceptance. Anyone who comes here, the city just makes them feel at home, accepted and allows them to be themselves. For those who have been born and brought up here, it’s a matter of pride and luck, that they were born into the city of opportunity.
Today however, a burning question lies in the heart of this city. A question which all political parties, claim to have an answer to and then want to leverage upon that just for the sake of votes. The question is: To whom does Mumbai belong?
As a part of this city, honestly, it is a bad question. The city has never differentiated among its people. Then how can a certain set of people claim Mumbai to be theirs? As a person, new to the city, I attempted to find answers to this burning question.
Does it belong to the selfish political parties and leaders who just use this city every time for their own good? NO! Absolutely Not! They do not even deserve to be called Mumbaikars. Then who can lay claim to the city? The ‘Sons of the Soil’ or only the ones who were born and brought up here? Maybe, But definitely not just them.
To all those who accept and love this city, the city belongs to them. The crowds, the every day fast paced life and the grime and toil of daily travel, people who bear all this and more and still love every bit of it, it is to them that the city really belongs to. It belong to that lady, who lives her entire livelihood in a 10 x 10 feet room in a chawl and to her husband who toils despite heat and rain to earn his bread.
Mumbai belongs to anyone who has come to it for some space from Ambani to the man sleeping on the railway platform. It belongs to the humble fellow who lives in the slums yet dreams big and grand. It belongs to all those who dance like crazy in Ganeshotsav as if there is no tomorrow. When rains knock, and couples frequent to Worli Seaface, the katta or the pavement is also Mumbai. It belongs to the kids who go to the national park, hanging gardens and Jijamata zoo and get a taste of wild in the middle of a concrete jungle. It belongs to those families who go to chowpatty every Sunday to have bhelpuri and just look at the sun set. It belongs to those, who have left the city for a New York or London, but still harbor the dream of coming back Home!
Mumbai belongs to those who cross knee-deep and waist high water in monsoon when the local fails them. It belongs to those who put stumps and start playing cricket at any place available in the city. It belongs to the connoisseurs of painting, dance and various other arts. (Fun Fact: The walls of Taj Mahal Hotel’s restaurant have been painted by M.F. Hussain. In his youth, he liked to give expensive parties to his friends, but didn’t have the money to pay. The manager at Taj saw his talent and asked him to paint the walls instead!)
It belongs to those muslims in byculla who lovingly welcome Lalbaugcha Raja with aarti every year. It belong to the hindu who wishes everyone Id Mubarak at bhendi bazaar and lovingly accepts the kheer and biryani. It belongs to the orphan who has lost its parents in the train blasts. It belongs to that old aged couple who still mourn the loss of their young son in the 93 riots. It belongs to those who show the resilience that the city is characterized by. And to those whose blood boils at the mention of the 26/11 and Kasab.
If a city has so many dimensions, such a brilliant life and well amazing history, How can it ever be the property of one race of people or religion or political party? It belongs to all those Indians who come here to make their drams turn to reality. No race, sect, caste, religion, region or language can ever be criteria for this city. Its soul is heterogeneity. It prides in the fact that ‘It is equal and fair to anyone who comes to it.’
