Travel Scholarship 2014

A familiar smell filled the air. Mangoes? Yes, there was definitely a hint of it.Tarragon? Wait, how do I even know what tarragon smells like?I am pretty sure I have never cooked with it before.As my thoughts were about to wander,I was interrupted by the driver’s abrupt stop that made me almost jump off the vehicle.What the…I looked at my father, who was giving my sister a reassuring smile and pointing to the traffic light. Wow, it must be true what they say about the drivers in this country.Pensive, I settled back into position, with one arm folded on top of the window and my head resting on it. As I took a moment to observe, suddenly, the noise became obvious to me all at once.The distant chatter of the men buying tobacco, the playful smiles of the children on the street, the non-stop honking, the barking dogs, the clamour from what seemed like a nightclub, even the loud discussion between a married couple in the building in front of us. It made me smile. Wasn’t it 2 am? The road was too busy for me to believe that it was, in fact, that late. It was so different from the quiet atmosphere back home. Home? The word was stuck in my head.“Look”–said Priya, pointing to the right–“there is a beach!”My sister’s excitement was tangible. No doubt the air had a foul smell to it, but the cascading waves hitting the shore from afar were a welcome sight. A beach. Just like home. It was beautiful at that time of the night. As we moved slowly with the traffic, little colourful carts blocked the view, as food vendors were packing up after spending the day selling syrupy ice cones and grilled corn-on-the-cob, amongst other street delicacies. The smell made me hungry. How is it possible that every time we move I catch a different and distinct smell? Wasn’t I just complaining about the odour?Suddenly, a rose landed on my lap. As I was about to pick it up, the faces of two ragged and skinny children, a boy and a girl, appeared on my window. They were smiling and pointing at the rose and then pointing back at the bouquet in their hands. The girl kept tapping my shoulder but the boy stood behind her, popping his head every now and then, smiling shyly. My father took out a note and gave it to the girl, whose smile grew wider as it finally turned into happy laughter. As we thought we left them behind, the boy suddenly appeared and gave me a rose. For you, he said smiling and ran away. As we moved away again, the driver said: “Welcome to Mumbai, madam ji, the City of Dreams.”