Tag Archives: Mumbai

Bombay/Mumbai – what do you call it?

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Image from here

Mumbai, India’s commercial capital (debatable now, but I like the ephithet), the city that never sleeps. I found this in my previous blog and thought this was a beautiful tribute to my hometown. This was actually circulated to me by email eons ago and I am not the original author. I do not know who that is, so can’t give credit where it’s due. If you do know the author, please do let me know and I’ll give credit.

Gateway of India

Image courtesy from this site
Bambai meri jaan….

  • A City where everything is possible, especially the impossible.
  • Where lovers first love and then marry, Where there is place for every Tom, Dick and Harry
  • Where telephone bills make a person ill, Where a person cannot sleep without a pill.
  • Where carbon-dioxide is more than oxygen, Where the road is considered to be a dustbin,
  • Where college canteens are full and classes empty, Where Adam teasing is also making an entry,
  • Where a cycle reaches faster than a car, Where everyone thinks himself to be a star,
  • Where sky scrapers overlook the slum, Where houses collapse as the monsoon comes,
  • Where people first act and then think, Where there is more water in the pen than ink,
  • Where the roads see-saw in monsoon, Where the beggars become rich soon,
  • Where the roads are levelled when the minister arrives,
  • Where college admission means hard cash, Where cement is frequently mixed with ash.
  • This is Mumbai my dear, But don’t fear, just cheer, come to Mumbai every year!

The iconic Marine Drive or Queens Necklace

Picture from here

23 Things that prove you are a Bombayaite 

  1. You say “town ” and expect everyone to know that this means south of Churchgate.
  2. You speak in a dialect of Hindi called ‘Bambaiya Hindi’, which only Bombayites can understand.*
  3. Your door has more than three locks.
  4. Rs 500 worth of groceries fit in one paper bag.
  5. Train timings (9.27, 10.49 etc) are really important events of life.
  6. You spend more time each month traveling than you spend at home.
  7. You call an 8′ x 10′ clustered room a Hall.
  8. You’re paying Rs 10,000 for a 1 room flat, the size of walk-in closet and you think it’s a “steal.”
  9. You have the following sets of friend: school friends, college friends, neighborhood friends, office friends and yes, train friends, a species unique only in Bombay.
  10. Cabbies and bus conductors think you are from Mars if you call the roads by their Indian name, they are more familiar with Warden Road, Peddar  Road, Altamount Road
  11. Stock market quotes are the only other thing besides cricket which you follow passionately.
  12. The first thing that you read in the Times of India is the “Bombay Times” supplement.
  13. You take fashion seriously.
  14. You’re suspicious of strangers who are actually nice to you.
  15. Hookers, beggars and the homeless are invisible.
  16. You compare Bombay to New York’s Manhattan instead of any other cities of India.
  17. The most frequently used part of your car is the horn.
  18. You insist on calling CST as VT, and Sahar and Santacruz airports instead of Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport.
  19. You consider eye contact an act of overt aggression.
  20. Your idea of personal space is no one actually standing on your toes.
  21. Being truly alone makes you nervous.
  22. You love wading through knee deep mucky water in the monsoons, and actually call it ”romantic’.
  23. Only in Bombay , you would get Chinese Dosa and Jain Chicken.

In My Hands Today…

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The Hundred Foot Journey – Richard C. Morais

The Hundred Foot Journey is the story of Hassan Haji, a boy from Mumbai who embarks, along with his boisterous family, a picaresque journey from London and then across Europe, before they ultimately open a restaurant opposite a famous chef, Madame Mallory, in the remote French village of Lumière. A culinary war ensues, pitting Hassan’s Mumbai-toughened father against the imper \ious Michelin-starred corden bleu, until Madame Mallory realises that Hassan is a cook with a natural talents far superior to her own.

Full of eccentric characters, hilarious cultural mishaps, vivid settings and delicious meals described in rich, sensuous detail, Hassan’s charming account lays bare the inner workings of the elite world of French haute cuisine, and provides us with an affirming and poignant coming-of-age tale

Neighbours all

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For some wierd reason I feel like posting on neighbours, so please bear with me.

Housing in Singapore is of two very distinct types – public and private. We live in a Housing & Development Board (HDB) Executive Apartment type of flat. It’s not too bad and around 80% of people in Singapore live in these kinds of flats. Our previous home was also an HDB flat and when we wanted to move to a bigger flat, we decided to go to HDB again since we had not taken the subsidy they give locals and so wanted to use that before we move to private housing.

We’ve lived in our present home for the past year and a half and till  today I barely know our neighbours. The block we live in is in an L shaped arrangement with the longer side having around 7 duplex type of flats and three in the shorter side (including ours) which are all on one level.

The day we shifted, we met the other two neighbours on our side of the building. They seemed nice and we exchanged hellos when we met or when the doors opened. Then one of them moved away (we didn’t know as we were on a holiday and when we came back, the neighbour was gone!). As for the others on the floor, we do not know ANY OF THEM! Funny right?

At our previous place, since I was working full-time, we also had a hello-bye relationship with our neighbours (there were a total of 6 flats on our floor including ours). But as soon as BB & GG were born, we became very friendly with them and the 6 years we spent there after the children’s birth were fun!

Contrast this with my home in Mumbai. We live in a building with 19 flats and almost all have been there for as long our family has been there (give or take around 60 years, the age of the building). I’ve grown up there and know every single person in the building. There was no fear of the unknown and all the adults living there were surrogate uncles/aunties/grandmas and grandpas! When we were younger and my parents had to go out for the evening, we used to go to one of these neighbours homes and if it became late, even slept over and came back home in the morning. When my grandparents passed away and my parents had to go to the city they were living in, it was to this particular uncle/aunty’s care that my mom left us in. She would bring us food and make sure we went to college and later to work. It didn’t matter to them that we were adults by then, my parents had left me and my sister in their care and they were going to look after us, come what may!

I miss that sense of camaraderie that we had, here it feels like every one just lives their own lives and noone is interested in the other person’s life. But then if I want to be really honest, I am also more of a self contained person and prefer my own company and that of my family’s to others…So guess this is quid pro quid…

Yearning for school – Part 1

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When I wrote about my school going life earlier this week, it made me nostalgic about my school. So this post is dedicated to my alma mater – J.B. Vachha High School. JBV is it was (and is still) called is the short form for the loong formal name of the school. The name which used to be printed on all our school note books for the 12 years that I spent there reads like this – J.B. Vachha High School for Parsi Girls & The Cawasji Jehangir Primary and Infant School. I can’t find the school website so there’s no link to the school, although I did remember checking it out a few years back!

The school badge

I studied in the same school right from Junior KG (or Kindergarten 1) till I completed my Secondary School Certificate or SSC exams. Most of the teachers who taught me, saw me grow from a naughty 4 year old to a mature 15 year old young lady. The school was a purely girls school and except for our Games master and Indian music teachers, all the teachers were also female. While I was growing up, this was the most popular school for girls around the area I lived in (this would mean the Dadar, Wadala, Matunga, Sion areas, but we did get students from other places like Chembur, Parel also). I also remember seeing huge queues of people waiting to get the admission forms for their daughters and this was at a time when school admission was not as difficult as it is today. My mother used to see the queues and say that they didn’t really have to queue up so much – they just went to the school in the morning, got the form and I was called for an interview, which I did well and just like that I was in! In fact my grand parents were against my joining JBV as they wanted me to go to the same school as my dad – this school was literally a hop, skip and jump away from home and more inportantly for them, was a south Indian school and hence to their eyes, had all the right values and attributes. But I am so glad that my parents, and especially my mom stood her ground and put me and later my sis in this school.

What we called the 'New Building'.

Those days, when it was just education all the time, this was one of the very few schools which had a big emphasis on extra curricular activities. From the time we were in third standard till we graduated these were the extra activities we did – embroidery, needlework, library, Indian music/Western music/Dancing (you had to choose one), cookery, gardening, laundry, girl guides/social service. We also did typing and economics as special subjects in the IX and X grades. We also had one period of drill or PE every week and from the VII grade till the X grade, we had to stay back after school once a week for around 90 minutes of games.

Since this is proving to be a loong post, I’ll stop here for Part 1 and do Part 2 another time.

It’s Raining, It’s Pouring…

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When it rains in the mornings, just when the students go to school and office drones go to work, the resulting jams are exactly like what happened today. This morning it started to rain around 6 am and by 7 am the jams outside the primary schools near my house needed to be seen to believed! There is a school just next to our building and it took us almost 10 minutes to just get out of the carpark and into the road. Next jam area was the one near GG & BB’s school and by the time I was dropped at my busstop, I was ready to call it a day (not that I need many excuses, if you have read my previous posts)

The initial bus ride was not bad considering the traffic earlier, but there was this hug traffic jam at the Whitley Road exit and then another major snarl near the Clark Quay MRT station and this meant I reached work around 15 minutes later than usual. Luckily I have a Skype meeting with someone around the time I normally leave so can make up the late entry.

During my commute I got thinking about the rains in Mumbai, especially during the time when I was in school. Nowadays it does not rain as much as it used to rain some 20 – 25 years back (Aagh! now I’ve given away my age!). Back then every school year we were guaranteed atleast 2 unscheduled holidays or at the very minimum half days due to heavy rains. These were pre cell phone, pre internet, heck, even pre-computer days and in fact, getting a phone connection used to be something that you had to wait a minimum of a couple of years. So we would be all dressed up and wait for the school bus which would not come. Then some parent would decide to walk/drive down to the school (the school was around a 15 minute walk from our home) and then they would come back and say the magic words – ‘no school’. We kids would love our unscheduled holiday and since it would be raining, we’d get to eat hot pakodas and as a bonus play in the rains….

Unfortunately this stopped when I reached college, since lectures used to take place even if there was one student. But during college and the time I worked, I’ve had many adventures in walking through waist-high water just to get home, being stranded in buses and trains, and seeing the good side of people in such situations.

Many people, especially those who come in from out of the city complain about the coldness of the people in Mumbai. About how neighbours don’t open the doors to neighbours and how they don’t even know who their neighbours are. But times like this, seem to bring out the best in the same people accused of being cold!

Here are some pictures of the rains in Mumbai – please note that these are more recent pictures, magnify these pictures by 10 or more and that was what I experienced, magnify it by 50 and that’s what my parents experienced, magnify it by 100 and that is what my grandparents said they experienced!

Trains stalled as the tracks are completely waterlogged. People have to just jump down is your train is not at/near a station and hope you don’t have a long walk home…

This is something that I have experienced myself…walking in waist-deep water and hoping and praying that some drain is not open near me!

The iconic BEST bus moving through a flooded street somewhere near the Hindmata, Parel area, if my geography of Mumbai still holds up.

We used to play like this at this one place near our home which always gets flooded!