This content was originally posted by: TheDilettante
Hanslal Mehta on Dhobi Ghat.
http://passionforcinema.com/dear-bombay/
Dear Bombay,
Sorry my love for writing this random letter to you. I just want to
tell you that I love you. I want to tell you that I am sorry my love.
I am sorry my love. I left you. I was angry. I was dejected. I was
frustrated. I was hurt. I was cynical. I was disillusioned. I was
selfish. I was stupid.
I am sorry my love. My love for you was not unconditional. My love
for you was not selfless. My love for you did not stand the test of
time. My love for you was not meant to be.
You did not question me when I abused you. You did not question me
when I betrayed you. You did not question me when I hated you. You did
not question me when I loved you. You did not question me when I
returned.
I am sorry my love.
By the way, I met Arun yesterday. He lives in our beloved Mohammed
Ali Road. He must be a good painter. He seems to love you. He listens to
some really wonderful music. He is slightly ambiguous about his
relationships. He smokes like a chimney. Just like you my love. He
allows people into his life. He does not allow people to run his life.
He lives in crowded streets. He is surrounded by humanity. Yet he is
alone. Yes he is fragile. Just like you my love.
Then I met Yasmin. She described you so beautifully. She was so
wistful yet she had so much hope strangled within her. I think I am in
love with her. I want to hold her. I just want to tell her that all her
longing can be fulfilled by you, my love. I want to hear her voice
again. She kept talking to me last night as I slept cuddled in your
arms. Can you find her for me?
I meet people like Shai every day. Smart. Mobile. Educated. Rich.
Searching. Yearning. Running. Seeking. Refreshing. Uninhibited.
Exhibitive. Giving. I must admit this. Initially I wasn't too sure if I
liked her but now I quite like Shai.
As I write this letter to you my doorbell rings. Munna has come with
my clothes. Washed, ironed, folded and delivered. Some starched. Some
ruined. Some old. Some new. The dhobi has been my unbroken connect with
you my love. So many dhobis. So many clothes. But this Munna dhobi is
quite a character. At first I was unsure if I liked him. But now I do
like him a lot. He reminds me of you. He is much more than a dhobi. He
lives for a better tomorrow. He is capable of love. He is honorable. He
is noble. He is human. He is a survivor. Like you my love.
I met this bespectacled girl called Kiran Rao yesterday. Behind those
big, round glasses were eyes that displayed so much love for you. Her
love for you made me so envious. How could she? Tell me my love, do you
love her? She calls you Mumbai. I call you Bombay. I met you much before
she did. Yet she seems to love you much more. Despite the terrible name
she calls you by. I think she meets you more often than I do. She
expresses much more to you than I can with this juvenile letter. Can you
please recite this small couplet to her?
naazuki us ke lab ki kya kahiye
pankhdi ek gulaab ki si hai
Can you thank this Kiran Rao for making me love you all over again?
Can you tell her that her tribute to you called 'Dhobi Ghat' or 'Mumbai
Diaries' has begun to heal my selfish, scarred heart? Can you please let
her know that I will look forward to the rains because of her? Can you
thank her for introducing those lovely people last night β people that
will remind me of you for the rest of my life? Can you tell her that I
have discovered my eternal love for you because of her?
Actually please don't ask her all this. Just tell me this muchβ¦
Can you forgive me my beloved Bombay?
With love,
Hansal.
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