Experiences

In the interest of transparency, let me admit upfront that I love Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, made in 1991. I mean, what’s there not to love about the movie? There’s its (richly deserved) Oscar-winning music--every song, up until the last extremely romantic waltz number is joyous and bursting with life. This was an animation movie made before the era of CGI and yet, can there be a more satisfying enchanted castle? Just watch the spoons doing synchronized swimming in the soup! Disney’s Belle is a bookish, kind hearted girl with an easy ability to make friends--be it the Beast or his enchanted minions. And she can sing like a lark. The Beast is more like Ebenezer Scrooge--ill tempered, cantankerous, and achingly lonely. But the most fun is the Disney staple of absolutely endearing supporting characters, be it the charming Lumiere (the candelabra with an evil eye for a duster); the uptight clock, Cogsworth; the buxom teapot, Mrs. Potts; her chipped cup of a son, Chip; or the foo

I believe that there is no other city in the world that is as embracing to the alienated and broken as Mumbai is. I sensed it in 1999 when I first washed up on its grimy shores, tottering on a fine line, in a state of primordial soup than a fully formed person. It enveloped me in its fragrant bosom, pooh-poohed my self-pitying whining, told me in its no-nonsense way not to wallow, and placed me in the middle of the unrelenting rat race with a twinkle in its eyes. Exactly 10 years later, in 2009, when I went back to being the primordial soup, it simply held my hand and waited patiently for me to form myself again. It let me maraud its congested alleys like a Genghis Khan gone rogue, giving me a sense of belonging among the heaving masses. It offered me newer surprises, like the graceful flamingoes on the viscous waters of Sewri or the multitude of birds in the entropic disorder of Powai lake. Its denizens offered their brand of casual and kind support. I was thinking about all this