Paper Planes

Most suited when one is driving on the I-93. There comes a moment, precisely one, when the city looms over. Vehicles streaming into adjacent lanes. The cold air nipping through. The rough sea and calm skies with the sunlight bouncing off them skyscrapers onto your face and suddenly you’re underground. From up above, descending steeply into subterrainia. Speed. Lights. And a time flows liquid like, in slow motion as a million lights flash past by.

No bohemian atmosphere. Prudish and not ashamed of its intelligence. The subways teem of students reading Neitzsche and Proakis. Taking the “T”, walking among buildings whose collective intellect could shame some entire nations. Looking out the seafront, walking the freedom trail. Losing yourself in the north end among cobblestoned paths and ancient houses. Freezing in the cold longing for vendakkai curry and digging into hot clam chowder at Quincy market. Walking through its numerous squares with a gaping mouth, taking it all in. Looking down at the city from the Prudential tower at the brilliant autumn foliage. Cheesecake at Copley square. Gourmet Indian food at backbay. For a relatively young nation, this city oozes history. And snobbish aristocracy.

Suburbia is eye piercingly beautiful. Suburbs have no right to be so. Lakes with roads cutting through them, almost apologetically. Streams and forests. Homes, schools, malls are extremely incidental.

Cities like Mumbai and New York are made of real stories. Of grit and struggle and of hard life. These cities command a sometimes silent, sometimes bloody struggle and compensate magnificently. None of that shit here. No immigrants looking wishfully at plenty. No gangsters and pimps, certainly no one smuggling stuff into its exceedingly cold harbor. One is born rich, becomes only richer and dies in a golden grave. Buried amidst oaks and holly, on the Charles riverside.

Elitist. Cold. Old. Home for the past three months, and maybe for the next five. Boston, MA.

*Paper planes- ARR, Slumdog millionaire. Listen to it. More importantly, watch the movie. A lesson on how to laugh, cry, be shocked and be amazed. More importantly, a lesson on Mumbai.