Mumbai -the place of the rich, the famous, the poor, the talented, the to-be actors/actresses, the models, the cricketers, the corporate honchos, the Bollywood superstars, the place for everyone; People come from all parts of the country and globe to make a fortune here, to live a life, to realize a dream or simply because someone’s someone is here! Mumbai has proved to be the Gateway of India for admitting into its mystical land, people of various cultures and civilizations. People of all religions, ethnicity, and creed have for years now made the city their home .It is then not very surprising to know that the city is actually made up of several islands, as it is of various people. No matter how much one hates the city for its pollution, its fast paced lifestyle, its congested atmosphere, yet the city has almost always managed to charm people and they eventually fall in love with the city that is often their temporary home.

Charles Dickens portrayed an easy picture of Mumbai: wealthy and poor, apartment dwelling and slum dwelling, bulbous and malnourished, a city of paradise and hell. People here are only of two types-one who make money and others who make more money. It is all about “dhandha”, from the vada-pav wala to the Guajarati Seth, all are businessmen here.

I have spent the early days of my childhood in Mumbai. After leaving the city almost 10 years back, I got an opportunity to live here for my vacations. And I felt as if someone had renovated my house, and made it in a way I couldn’t recognize! On one side, stood the huge gigantic and humongous skyscrapers and on the other side there were the smaller and dirtier slum areas. Earlier, you could get a place to stand in a bus or train; it’s the same today, only now you have to stand on one leg. Then people used to shop and swing as though there was no tomorrow; now they shop and swing as if there’s no today either.

Time and again over the past 15 years, Mumbai has been brought to its knees: by bomb blasts, by a freakish flood or by terrorist attacks. Time and again, Mumbai has picked itself up, and got along.

One of the days during my vacation, it was raining quite heavily, which was very normal during the monsoon, rather was abnormal if it did not rain. I was out for some work. Carrying a broken umbrella; I did not think it would matter a lot, I was terribly wrong. As I was returning, the same road I saw a few hours back was missing, it was a river now. Traffic jams everywhere, trains came to a halt, electricity was off, and the city was shut. Storm and rain had created havoc. Adding to the troubles, it was pitch dark. I shivered, realizing that this may be my last day, the last few hours. But amidst the havoc, people were the only hope. They held ropes and helped people to walk ahead. Groping in the dark, I managed to get hold of a rope; slowly and painfully I made my way home. I can never forget the face of the man who helped for me and several others survive that terrible night. That’s the spirit of Mumbai.

The phrase ‘the spirit of Mumbai’ as much a truism is a shorthand to describe the process of being able to, like a boxer, absorb punches, hang back on the ropes and come back swinging one’s fist, shaking the blood out of one’s eyes. It is that spirit which has helped the Mumbaikars survive every single time. And It will continue to do so. Their lives will continue, their “dhandha” too.