Guncha…

This moment; to cherish! Ones like this one that leave a sweet and spicy chill up my spine. This Black and Yellow rickety cab moving at a very slow pace, it is just past eight in the evening and the sky is a mélange of light and dark shades of blue to finally succumb to black that sparkles with perpetual confetti.
I’m stuck in heavy traffic and from the rolled down window the Mumbai monsoon is hitting my face with droplets that are full of lyrical satisfaction.
The busy noises are hazy because serene music in my ears is filling my aura up.
Guncha by Mohit Chauhan is slowing my world down as I am passing bustling Mumbai every second I’m moving forward.
The sitar and the flute together are making me smile. The saline cool air blowing my curly black hair and I’m still a little high from the joint that I smoked an hour ago with Delzaad
(saqi ne fir se mera jam bhar diya)
And my phone rings.
‘You ruined my moment Mr Bhagat’ I exclaimed.
‘Why?’ he asked confused.
How do I explain that I’m relishing every spoonful of Bombay when it is at its best? Traffic isn’t concerning me anymore; I’m a portion of it.
How do I explain to you that I’m taking big bites of this city that has in fact consumed me?
‘Okay, Bye’ and we both hung up after a brief confused conversation.
Resuming back to the mood that is almost still lingering around
(mehfil mein baar baar idhar dekha kiye)
The tabla is making me tap my feet while the cabbie is cutting through to make way faster, which without my intentions is making me sway out of tune.
(Hosh bekhabar se hue unke begair)
This city has given me all one needs to have from a lifetime; Hate and Love in equal proportions and the concoction of it all is what I am today.
Sitting in a cab smiling to myself and headed to see someone I have no idea means what in my life, maybe something to write about for next time I’m emotionally and creatively charged.
Perhaps I’m learning to love my life the way it is. A little colourful with blotches of black to add character; some crimson bold straight lines that define the emotive being that I am. A few broken yellow ones to make way for instances to flow into untouched greens. Mostly the patches of white that are yet to be filled with hues of unknown passions (guncha koi tere naam kar diya).
