It was a Saturday, officially a holiday, as I work in an office with a five-day schedule and weekends off. But as usual, my colleagues and I were at work, sacrificing our day off due to the heavy load of commitments in our department—a responsibility towards the nation, far from easy.
We arrived early, but our boss, a workaholic, was yet to come. As I passed a mirror in my office, I caught my reflection and realized how unkempt I looked. My eyebrows desperately needed trimming. Being new to Mumbai and unfamiliar with the area, I asked a female colleague, Jyothi, to recommend a good beauty parlour. She immediately offered to take me to one nearby on her two-wheeler. Since it was a holiday and our boss hadn’t arrived yet, I decided to go with her.
The parlour happened to be near Jyothi’s flat. After my eyebrows were done, she invited me over for tea. We climbed the stairs to her flat on the third floor of a six-story building, as there was no lift. I noticed how close the doors to the flats were, with barely any common space. Outside each door, slippers were piled in a chaotic jumble. I thought to myself, someone could easily walk off with another’s slippers, either unknowingly or deliberately, if they were more comfortable!
Jyothi warmly welcomed me into her 1 BHK flat. Coming from Chennai, where homes are spacious, her flat seemed tiny. But I had come to understand Mumbai’s space crunch. Despite this, she had devoted a corner of her small hall to a beautifully adorned space for her gods, complete with garlands and prayer essentials.
The room lacked a balcony, and I asked her how they dried clothes. She pointed to two clotheslines tied outside the windows. Drying clothes required standing near the window, carefully stretching out and securing them on the line with clips. I found it a tedious task, but for Jyothi, it was routine—a testament to how life in Mumbai teaches one to adapt.
As I sipped the hot masala chai she served from her tidy little kitchen, I observed her single room. Small as it was, affording this much space in Mumbai was a luxury for a middle-class family.
Before leaving, Jyothi asked if I wanted to use the loo. That’s when I noticed a door at the end of her kitchen platform leading to a two-in-one toilet and bathroom. The design shocked me—having the toilet open directly into the kitchen seemed thoughtless and unhygienic. I was careful not to show my dismay, but internally, I was furious at those who designed and approved such flats without any concern for the residents’ dignity and health.
In older times, toilets were built away from the main house, respecting hygiene. Though modern conveniences have brought toilets indoors, placing one near the kitchen felt like a cruel compromise. This city, which grants so many dreams, should also ensure better living standards.
As Jyothi locked her flat, I reflected on her life. Despite the flat’s flaws, it was a sanctuary of love and security for her and her two children after losing her husband.
We returned to the office just in time. Passing the mirror again, I noted how my eyebrows looked neatly shaped now, but my mind was still unsettled. I wished that Mumbai, a city of hope and opportunities, could also provide its people with a life of dignity and better living conditions. With the right intention and selflessness, nothing is impossible.