There is something
oddly beautiful about South Bombay. A sense of history, even though
it’s far more recent than say, Delhi. I especially like Fort. All
the buildings look old, are old. There are vast multitudes walking in
the streets, every one rushing to work. It is also confusing, getting
from one part to another means getting past a number of streets ,
most of them named after Parsis. Till now, I’ve seen the name of
every famous Parsi person I know(not living) except Maneckshaw. And
many I’ve never heard of. Even a gali which is barely 100 m
long has its own name. The variety of food available within five
minute’s walk of my office is mind-boggling. A quaint Irani cafe.
Dosa places selling kinds of dosa I’ve never heard of in Bangalore.
Seafood. Vada Pao, Samosa Pao, Misal Pao and Cutting Chai. The
Sandwich, nothing like I’ve tasted before. It feels odd asking for
Pani Puri and not Gol Gappe. Three different Parsi restaurants.
Kababs, and generic Veg restaurants which sell everything from Pao
Bhaji to Puri Bhaji. One side out of Fort is Kala Ghoda. The Jehangir
Art Gallery, and everything around it. The museum. Walk a little.
Flora Fountain, or Hutathma Chowk. Doesn’t the marble fountain with
angels, made in 1869 look better than the monument dedicated to the
leaders of the Samyukta Maharashtra movement with its divisive
message ‘Jai Maharashtra’? I bought an old book there, for very
cheap.
Very close is Churchgate, for local train travel. Otherwise,
if you take the subway, there is Eros Cinema on the other side. Not very far is the Oxford India Bookstore. Sometimes I drank tea,
sometimes coffee, and read half a book without buying it.
My fourth day in
Bombay, I still haven’t seen the sea. As I get out of office, I
decide to walk. Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the Gateway of India.
Police don’t check my bag. The Taj Mahal Hotel is just beautifully
lit up. I see Colaba Causeway on the way. I go see Leopold,
imagining it in the 70s. My Shantaram moment done, I know it’s too
expensive for me right now. We walk behind the Hotel, see the cars,
the buildings, and the odd mix of people.
One day, my non-drinker
friend sees a place and says, ‘Hey, that looks like a nice place
for a beer’. I tell him he has good taste, but we can’t, it’s
the Bombay Gymkhana. Every day I get out of Marine Lines, Azad Maidan
on my left, and take the cab. My cabbie returns change when I pay him
20 bucks, without asking for it. I figure out, Cabs cost less here
than autos in Bengalewdu. What a city!
However I sweat, more
and more. But I drink Sugarcane juice, and feel refreshed. One night
we go to Marine Drive. I’ve seen it on TV, and don’t really
expect much. It is unexpectedly spectacular. The number of people out
late, the lights. And finally, the breeze. On Sunday, we go to Hajji
Ali. Dirty, insanely crowded. No spiritual feelings awakened.
Chowpatty, then Marine Drive Again. NCPA Apartments look like nice
place to stay. Find out they’re the most expensive apartments in
the country. Ah, well.
Finally, back at the
Gateway. On Sunday, it’s so crowded, we think of coming back later.
There’s a line. People formed it, by themselves, voluntarily. What
a city.
