A moment’s breath in a bustling county

I sauntered at a leisurely pace down Mpaka Road. Clean lines of apartments, dotted with colourful hoardings lined the two sides of the road. A lazy walk. There’s always this pleasant breeze even at the onset of summer. Late afternoon brings with it subdued sunshine, painting Nairobi in a shade of muted gold. As I neared the bustling Sarit Centre Roundabout, the façade changed just as quick to one of countless other cities. Crowds in colour, hoardings screaming their brands, small carts selling street-side food, the local Matatu’s, ever so conspicuous in their bright paint and extravagant prints letting off passengers. And the ever present raucous tune of busy feet, hurried ones heading home, stall owners chatting with customers. Music drifting from tiny stores, roadside vendors selling veggies and sudden hawkers crossing your path to sell you anything from skirts to flowers! The riot of colours in dresses and headgears casts a spell and lends one a sense of celebration in every corner. October end heralds spring in Nairobi and the Jacaranda signs off in its magnificent purple, peeping from trees and corners of buildings. 

The Jacaranda Curtain

I took a moment to soak in all of these. The sights and smells of a new city, a city which breathes and kicks and moans and laughs just as any other. And I was transported to another place, in another time. 

Late afternoon and its mighty hot. And humid. The scores of people on Hill Road would anyday outnumber a city proud of it’s busy markets. Hill Road never sleeps. Branded shops and hawkers alike keep the stretch alive till late into the night. There’s so much traffic that cars, bikes, rickshaws and the crowd live in a perfect harmony of complete chaos! Any visitor to this bustling city which never sleeps would lose sleep over crossing this not-so-wide road. But Mumbaikars negotiate this with as much ease as a riverside shack goer walks its banks ☺ The wares sold on the road range from clothes and bags, shoes and scarfs, umbrellas and junk jewels to just about anything one can imagine. The big brands scream from their windows the best buys, thrown elegantly around mannequins. And all the while, the famous Elco Market dishes out vadas and dosas, bhel and dahi puri’s, lapped up as much by throngs of people on the footpath as much as inside the crowded restaurant. The smell compliments the hustle and noise of Hill Road. Yes, Bandra West comes alive in its truest sense.

Nairobi and my leisurely walk to a store on this afternoon reminded me of Bandra West. With a longing almost physical. Everywhere in the world, the language of life is perhaps the same. The tone is softer in places and harsh in others. The tune and throw is kinder in places and on-the-face in others. The cool breeze eases the walk in places, while the hot sun in others makes one sweat, but urges one on with a sense of rush.

Every city has a breath. A pattern of waking up, work and sleep. In its own way, every place sells us the same story. One of evergoing life, of wants and of wares, of colours and cacophony. And of the story of you and me. And our walks to the store on a lazy afternoon.