With a hangover that had us groaning as we got out of bed, Rushil and I geared up for the day. Both of us were thrumming with energy though, despite the alcohol from the night before doing its hardest to slow us.
One of my intentions, having arrived in Mumbai, was to get inked. There was a need rather than a want and there was also a craving for change. Desperation had been eating at me for days to shed the old, leave behind the memories and sensations, forget the hopes and start afresh. Back when I was in University, this usually involved me getting pierced or colouring my hair, etc. Either way, it usually had to do with me, well, doing something to myself. In my head, this was always my way of establishing a new lifestyle.
As mentioned before, I have suffered from dysthymia for quite some time now. Having relapsed recently and slipped back into depression after keeping it at bay for almost a year, had me fighting for ‘something new’. I stumbled across the perfect image and after that, I was itching for it to be on my skin, permanently.
I got it done on my ribs. Many may wonder why I got it done there. Any one who has any idea about tattoos, knows, that the rib cage is one of the MOST painful places to get inked. The masochist in me chose that spot for that very reason. To get away from the anguish, my twisted thinking had me believing very firmly, that even if it was for just half an hour, the pain from the tattoo on the rib cage would distract me from the pain I was dealing with every minute, emotionally and mentally.
On some level, it did and on some level, it failed.
Nonetheless, I now have my third tattoo spanning across four ribs. Have fun trying to figure out what it symbolises !
While I was laying on my side, nails digging into the leather and face, dealing with the excruciating pain, Rushil too was having her back inked. She was sealing the deal on a previous tattoo and adding the final touches to it, to make it complete. The minute she got done with hers, she rushed to me, her hands voluntarily being impaled by my nails as she tried to distract me from the sensation of a needle pricking me way too many times, carving my bone while it was at it.
After both our tattoos were done, we headed out for lunch. Rushil took me to SodaBottleOpenerWala, a Parsi restaurant. The cuisine was delicious and I loved the cuisine!
I left it to Rushil to choose the food for us. I was too busy trying to breathe through the pain. Rushil did a brilliant job with the choice of food. She always looks like such a stunner, but something about the restaurant made her look like a vision and I couldn’t help but capture her.
We had the Chicken Sanju Baba, which was the Sunday special. Alongside that, we had Rotlis and Mutton Berry Pulao. The portions were pretty big and I failed to finish my share. I had to push my plate away from me with a very heavy heart.
The lunch was made a tad bit awkward when my tattoo started bleeding. People all round had such quizzical looks on their face. I guess it is warranted when you are lifting your top up in public every few minutes, dabbing away with a tissue that is turning darker from blood with every pat.
Post lunch, we headed to the centre of Mumbai, where I, in the words of Rushil, acted like a complete tourist, snapping pictures of everything I saw. We visited Taj Palace and The Gateway of India. The rains did not help neither did wearing flats.
From there, Rushil dragged me to Colaba Causeway for shopping. In my head, my tattoo was a big and very expensive gift to myself, so indulging in some more did not feel right. We window shopped for a bit and then headed to Kala Ghoda, a cafe that exudes serenity and calm; a place where you can go by yourself, discover, and let your creativity flow.
We went for an Iced Latte, Cold Coffee with Ice Cream and Muti Grain Bread with Hummus. The entire time spent there was so incredibly relaxing. There was no urge to keep up a conversation. One could be in their own thoughts and yet still enjoy the company around them.
We then headed back home, extremely exhausted. I think both of us even dozed off in the cab ride home!
Back home, I think I woke up our neighbours. We had to clean our tattoos and taking off the tape concealing our tattoos reignited the pain that had numbed through the day. My screams had me demanding or rather begging Rushil to let the tape be, making feeble attempts at convincing her that the tattoo could be cleaned later on…maybe never. We all know who won that argument!
Doesn’t matter though. The pain was so worth it.
P.S : I pride myself on having an extremely high threshold for pain. The description of pain from getting my bones inked is truly not an exaggeration. If you’re planning on getting inked there, think twice and go drunk if you can!