View from my window

(February 2009, Mumbai)

I don’t gaze out of my window anymore simply because there is nothing to look at. Barely fifteen feet away from our second-storey apartment stands an imposing, officious high-rise covering the field of vision entirely.

When I was a child, the view was different. Far into the distance I could see hills in varying shades of blue. That an atomic reactor stood in their midst only intrigued me further. Closer home, a solitary skyscraper broke the blue of the skyline. Not far behind it stood three identical administrative buildings in green and white. Over the years I saw Mumbai’s biggest corporate and administrative hub rise around them. About a year ago, a plot of land there was sold for a hundred crores. I now realise that the change I had been witnessing was more than just the one in the cityscape.

In the immediate vicinity of my home were a few coconut palms, some illegal shanties, a shop that sold ground spices, a flour mill that filled sleepy afternoons with its rumble, and a grocer’s shop that sold, among other things, adulterated ghee and dal.

Come night and I could see the buildings in the distance announce their names in neon. When I partially closed the blinds, I could see the serrated sky.

Now there is nothing but the tall office building. The only reason why it isn’t intrusive is that it is angled away from my home.

I have learnt to live with changing views.