Bombay- A Short Salty Aircon Satyricon by the Ostrich

Misplaced priorities took me north this weekend…to a city that buzzed so hard it made me grind my teeth. Sitting in a coffee shop, after a quick cappuccino, the vague techno beats in the background made me want to sit up and do something with my life. With me was a serial Bombay lady killer with a stuffy nose and a wicked smile who told me to calm down and stop worrying about the time.

I leave for London in 8 days
I’m not packed
My closet is stacked
With clothes I can’t bear to throw away
And a rice cooker too old to be sold

I ended up gravitating to places in the city that were akin to my favorite haunts back home. Despite packing for a possible society bitch evening, my shiny blue rhinestone studded heels never saw the light of day…or night.

I had very bad luck with cabbies. Inspite of local residents telling me how honest and meter-worthy they were, I ended up paying 200 bucks more than I should have to a Bihari who pretended his taxi broke down half way. This is after he bummed a cigarette from me AND interrogated me as to why I wasn’t married yet. I told him I was too old for cannabis and too young for connubliss but just right for Amul chocolate. Of course he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about and just stared down my shirt at a traffic signal. He’d pegged me as a tourist and dismissed me ages ago when I said matchbox instead ‘macchis’. Incidentally the cab I took on my way to the departure terminal 3 days later also broke down halfway...it just wasn’t meant to be.

I did however spend two OC nights in complete comfort in a plush hotel room with a bowl of complimentary pears, green tea toiletries and the aforementioned lady killer. Seriously, I don’t think it gets any better than that.


Somewhere in my head
A Pomeranian with a Scottish accent
Wonders where to fling his poo
Flicks his over-blow-dried do
And I wish to god i knew,
How the movie producers would react
To the way we annihilated their horrid hit movie


I attempted to make good on my primary excuse for the trip by going to linking road but soon discovered it was neither cheaper nor of better quality than the shopping I was accustomed to in Bangalore. I did stop to stare at some shiny objects like a magpie though. Armed my two resident, hell-raising, evil twins in tow, I was spared the agony of bargaining. I just pointed to a pair of earrings I liked and they took care of it for me. I wish I could pack them into my suitcase.

(Spoken to the meter of beans, beans)
Twins, twins, good for the heart
The more you meet
The less you can tell them apart
The more you part
The worse you feel
So let’s keep the twins close at heel

Went to Ghetto’s whose walls were painted by the same artist who has graced Mojo in Bangalore with his rock inspired, psychedelic frescos and felt right at home. The beer prices were the only thing that gave it away. That and perhaps the inability to get in a frame of pool because the waiting list was closed to non-regulars. Mondy’s was enjoyable except I screwed up my jukebox selection and played some idiotic world cup anthem instead of Ava Adore.

Bombay you are a city of dreams
The same producers probably snored in your salty breath,
The night we did
So salut and Good cheer
Maybe I’ll be back in a year
And speak to the producers about playback
Or just maybe my glorious tan
Growing chocolate on a sunny terrace in Milan
Will reflect my disdain for their plots


3 days, excellent company, a round of goodbyes and one heavy aching heart later I was back at the airport. It’s true, I’ve lost focus. If anyone finds it please drop it in a mailbox.