Mad about Mumbai (part 2)

Back in Bombay, and not a moment to lose.

Take #353 bus from Chembur Amarmahal - fold ticket 4 times and insert between watch strap & wrist, so it sticks out. Get off at Matunga King Circle and begin the slow walk.

Walk by Classic restaurant, Don Bosco, Khalsa (on Lohri day, too!) and UDCT (now called ICT). Remembering that mom considered taking a librarian's job at UDCT to get me in on staff reservation (after all, how was one expected to get > 100% to make it on merit 'quota').

With food choices in Matunga, what was regrettably skipped was going to be as prominent as what was had. Koolar & co, the Irani restaurant with bun maska and the wrestlers omlette (made with 12 eggs). Snow point and DPs flanking Ruia. Manis, home away from home, while at Ruia.

Rama Nayak's Udupi and Rasam vada was the chosen one for today. Do a quick check that 7-11 softy ice-cream place is open late, and continue the slow walk. Happy to see the sidewalk (book) stalls alive and well; but upset at not seeing any PG Wodehouse (how else is "God in his heaven and all is right with the world").

Passed by the venerable jeweller PP Krishnan Kutty and imagined mom hurrying out excitedly, diamond ear stud secured for the new bride-to-be.

Cross the building where paternal grandparents lived (opp BAT quarters) and remember many a desultory afternoon (played truant from Ruia) snoozing on the easy chair in the tiny balcony, having gobbled up dosa and filter coffee. Then, the maternal's place and spooked to see some 'veshthi' and 'mundoos' hung out to dry. Resist the urge to walk up and ring the doorbell and find the Singer sewing machine and Godrej steel Almira somehow frozen in time.

Remembering 'thatha' (granpa) saying that mom played basketball at a school park nearby and wondering if she may have been a good shot, but somehow convinced that she made a very dependable point guard.

Matunga is the only place on earth where drop me blindfolded and put on headphones, the smell of coffee powder and (mogra) flowers would be enough to confirm I had come home to roost. I dare say it would be accompanied by a slight shudder too - at the weight of memory of those massive wedding garlands. Seeing it now, one is inclined to think: "Please join me in a silent prayer for the bride and groom to be."

Continue the walk by Matunga station and a sharp intake of breath on sighting the 'khatta' opp Ruia and Podar. (The sharp intake of breath was also for the fish market outside Matunga station. Reminded of several episodes from back in the day involving train travel to work, kolis carrying fish baskets, some tilting, and then lot of stinking rest of the day. It was quite the dodging to avoid the dripping!)

Walk by Manis and DPs and turn around again to sit on the khatta and start writing this post, watching evening nets in Matunga maidan. Convinced that Ruia was the place where mama's boy grew up (or became a boy, at any rate).

Tempted in my NRI shorts to bully my way and see the inside of the royal Matunga gymkhana but then deciding against.

Time for round2, to tickle the taste buds. The quintessential Mumbai streetside ("we take party orders too":)) veg cheese grilled s/w with ketchup and chutney on top. Joined by a crowd of college boys (I'm going to say from Ruia) chatting about girls and Chemistry lab work.

Bumping into a fellow SouthIndian (but, of course) from eons ago and making promises to meet in another Southie hub, Cheddha Nagar. Walking up & down (and down & up) favored stretches and even recording snatches of Matunga sounds on the phone, till people are starting to notice.

Ambling on, the mind wanders to movies watched with friends, the more exciting when it was after 'bunking' classes during college hours. Considering if one should watch Thalaiva, Rajani's movie Lingaa in this Tamil bastion in one of the original single screen theaters, Aurora. But having missed his 70-ft cutout being worshiped and bathed in milk during the opening movie week, wouldn't the experience fall woefully short.
      
Walk further and feet take control to drag you into the Asthika Samaj Guruvayoor temple. One gets nonplussed in the sea of ardent devotees. Sound of Nadaswaram and drums instantly transport me to the days of snot-nosed cousins, runny plantain leaves, 51 Re gift envelopes, and easy and loud camaraderie.

Winding up the night with strawberry melba softy and almost happy to note the same store owner, who still looked like he wanted to knock your teeth out:)


More happy traipsing in Matunga to shake off that ice-cream and surely tonight's dream would be an improbable plot involving mom, Ruia, basketball, College Rose day and chemistry lab.

Mad about Mumbai (part 1)

It's been 4 yrs and so, if needlessly nostalgic, please cut me some slack.

To retrace our old stomping grounds, Usha and I set off on foot today from Bombay VT. Before long, we stop at Kandils sidewalk stall for Ganga-Jamuna juice ("Bisleri nahi lagega boss" - only fresh squeeze, no water used).

On the Fort sidewalk, the eyes wander to see if pirated movies (and 'those' titles) are still being hawked.
("Good that you're with me, Appa always said avoid this stretch of sidewalk").

Continue walking and get into Rhythm House music store (just browsing, seldom buying). Further on, lost our way to that pen store in the Fountain area. Usha has a thing for ball point pens and I have bought her several from here in the past. Today, for old times' sake, it was an original Pilot pen (you know, off-white with a speck of blue on top).

More stomping towards Regal, and made a mental note to have the egg frankie another day. Then hop into a cab, already salivating about the special (its always the 'special') Pav Bhaji at Shiv Sagar in Churchgate. Occupied a 4-seater table and sitting, giggling, both on one side. ("Avoid the "soumf" (supaari) at the end - people tip coins into that steel tray and one can never tell how many times and where those coins have changed hands").

Lamenting the loss of pavement book stalls before cooling off with Roasted walnut icecream for Usha (at Naturals) and Icecream sandwich for me at K Rustoms ("I can count 15 restaurant code violations just sitting here":)).

Just like before, buying a single red rose (at single-digit Re/- no more) for Usha and the pavement florist touching the note against herself & her framed Goddess, it being a "bonee" (her first sale of the day). Then marveling at her little daughter sitting cross-legged on the ground, neatly but furiously solving math sums in her ruled notebook.

Ambling on, hearing and soaking in snatches of Mumbai conversation. "Your dad gave you 20000 to buy an iPad mini, no?" Instead of who/ what/ why, stylishly adding a 'No' and ? at the end of sentences ... is that a hep South Bombay thing, college crowd thing or a Convent thing? Wouldn't our beautiful language be poorer for lack of such variations?

Walk by Marine Drive but then walk away all too soon, head pounded by the overbearing heat. Its then cold coffee with a dollop of vanilla ice-cream, like you can only find here! Awash in memories with every sip and spoon.

More sidewalk walking and clearly, that's not where the rest of Mumbai walks. We love to walk on the road just off the footpath, in the opposite direction of traffic. With hawkers and other encroachment, that's understandable. But what a world of experience we miss! Walking elsewhere in the city, saw a 'bhajiya' vendor teaching his young apprentice how to chop onion and cauliflower. Food Network style right on the pavements of my big and brash city!

Almost run into by a careless 2-wheeler and how instinctively I use my Bombayya gaali ("diktha nahi kya Kajhurr":)). Shocked at my brazenness, Usha & I then dissolved into peals of laughter. (In the meantime, soaking in Mumbai his own way, Aakash had been poring over an email of Bombayya Hindi slang sent by a relative. Hearing 'Ded shaana', 'Jhakaas' from an NRI kid's lips - does language get any more exotic?

Move to Oval Maidan to catch some maidan cricket (Mumbai has, and always will, evoke cricket first and foremost). Then lingering to see if the batsman will make a lofted shot or do the perfect pull.

Meeting friends who live here (among the birds in fairytale places - big towers - high above the city) and as I use the new freeways, it occurs to me that the Mumbai of old has moved on. Perhaps beyond measure.

But for today, for just this one day, Usha and I may have quietly and secretly willed it back in time.

Is resilient a metaphor for something to screw?
You may say what a strange ode to brew
For a city that's given love, friends, and wings to fly,
But where events ever-so-often can make you cry;
Be safe, flawed paradise, a giant kala tikka in my mind I just drew.