Shobha Ramani narrates a day in the life of a Mumbaikar and reflects upon the life they have built around themselves in a metropolitan city, making one think if being alone means being lonely.
The church bell rang sonorously, waking her up from her light doze. She counted the strokes off one by one – six o’clock. It was time for her to pick up milk. Her eyes burned a little as she opened them.
The flower market in Dadar had been particularly noisy that morning. “Move, move on, don’t block, vehicle no. so & so…” the loudspeaker had been blaring nonstop since 3:45 a.m. The flower market must have been extra busy due to the Navaratri festivities. Whatever, another restless night. Not that she ever slept deeply these days; some muscle or another ached constantly.
She washed her face in the tiny basin and tucked her hair behind her ears. She shook out her brown house dress hem and adjusted the neckline. She picked up her shopping bag and opened the front door of her flat. The cat, which had been waiting outside, darted in. She had expected this old friend, so she stood clear of the doorjamb to avoid tripping over the cat.