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Living and Being in Mumbai
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It is after my husband’s recent death that I came to understand the personal freedom that a cosmopolitan city like Mumbai offered. During the first few days after his demise, well-meaning relatives and friends rallied around offering moral support and advice. Customs to be followed and rituals to be performed were explained by the elderly and knowledgeable amongst them; although the elucidations varied according to the state or the region in a state the adviser belonged to — the core remained the Hindu religion, but filtered by parameters such as state, region, ease of performance, and constraints due to space, time, availability of materials, etc. It left the family confused on what to follow, but we came to the conclusion that since there were so many variants to each custom or ritual, the departed soul’s peaceful passage into the afterlife did not depend on the specificity and chose to do the best possible under the circumstances. After his ashes were consigned to the holy Godavari at Nashik, we returned to the rat race that is life. Friends and relatives did drop by or call occasionally. By and large we were left to ourselves to grieve the loss of a well-loved father and husband. Even as I was battling disparate emotions, I thought back to some of my aunts who had lost their husbands when I was a child. How they had changed into colorless clothes that reflected their lackluster lives and retreated into the gloom of the dim interiors in old ancestral households, with their outings restricted to the visits to the temple with eagle-eyed country folk scrutinizing their every move to find fodder for juicy gossip. Even if they had wished their lives to be otherwise, I don’t think the frowning society patriarchs or matriarchs, the custodians of culture, would have allowed it. I was back to work on the 15th day after my husband passing away. Since it was a new job, nobody knew about my bereavement, which was a relief. The only change in my attire was that I switched to black bindis instead of the usual red ones I wore — my aunts back home had worn holy ash or sandalwood streaks on their forehead. I did change into somewhat lighter colored clothes, but it was rather a choice of my own as opposed to being dictated by others. The hectic city life has been a reason for lament for many because it left little time or energy for socializing, but this vice of a throbbing metropolis also allowed an individual the freedom to be. People are so caught up in their own meshes of daily existence that they are least interested in the lives of fellow beings. I know that being an educated, employed woman and the fact that I have liberal in-laws and the changes wrought in society in the 30 odd years since my childhood are significant contributing factors for the difference in life situations between my aunts and me. However, I also firmly believe that a cosmopolitan city like Mumbai allows the freedom and anonymity to live life on one’s own terms.
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