Bombay Days.

A movie about three boys and three girls – two sets of siblings and two genetically unrelated to each other, sitting on the society bench, through their teenage and early twenties till one moves out for higher education, one becomes a shippie, one is a CA, one gets his medical internship in rural Gujarat, one goes to Mumbai University and one joins a digital media agency.

Over their early and mid-twenties they keep running back home and being nostalgic and somewhere after 25 they stop doing that too and if you see the six of them together again, there is always a 7th or even 8th.

One day you realise one of them has had one break up too many and it’s awkward because between 20 and 26 you didn’t quite catch up that much.

Then one day two of them say they’ll get married and announce it on the group and you think of the time they’d open your door in the funny way to get in and tell you things like “Aai bore kartiye, malaa chahaa banav” but the wedding is on a WhatsApp group.

Then one of you get a promotion and you type congratulations on the group and feel guilty about it only till the next person types the same. You’ve forgotten what calling up sounds like – but it’s okay, what will you say anyway. You even stopped arguing on the group and the bored doctor from Gujarat’s weird humour and twisted forwards are the only thing that keeps it alive.

Someday someone will mute that group and you’re afraid it’s you but you don’t want to. It’s the key to your childhood, the pimples, the sprouting of boobs and first love. It’s home, as you once knew it but you also recently declared that you don’t have a home anymore.

One day someone will ping about someone else’s parent, saying that they passed away and you will feel shock. And then it will pass. Then it will dawn that your parents are growing old too.

That one day someone might have to make that announcement about them. What do we do? Nothing. We attend funerals. Of a man or woman with grey hair or no hair who used to call your childhood friend home at 9.30 because dinner is always on time with family. You think of all the dinners you missed as a grown up in an office sitting late nights because that’s what needs to be done. Four hours that could have been spend on a friend, on sleep, on cooking a meal for your upset stomach are spent doing things that need to be done and you have no memory of.

Because childhood was so far away you cannot touch it, and those who made the elements of childhood are many worlds away, even if they’re in the same city, meeting you on odd weekends, introduced as childhood friends while your childhood stands humiliated.