The Idea-smithy

Here’s introducing a new category at The Idea-smithy. Remember Anjani’s tangy toes? And K’s funky bag?

Never one for fashion trends myself, I’ve always sported my own style and been at the receiving end of much flak, disbelief…and admiration. Anything off-beat or unusual on someone else catches my eye as well. We are all spectators at heart and it’s the sights that charm, entertain and enthrall us as much as our other senses. And let’s not forget -  Tomorrow is being born in the form of new ideas!

I Style! celebrates the spirit of individualism and the sparks of it that I spot in day-to-day life. The photographs may not be picture-perfect, the writing could be better but the sights will be fresh.

I’m also inviting contributions to I Style! If you spot someone wearing something whacky, something crazy, something unusual, stop and talk to them. And if they permit you to take a picture, do send it to me. I’ll be delighted to feature it on I Style! Just make sure you’ve got their permission to have it up on the internet. It would be good to take down their email address. If possible, capture the article that caught your eye with just enough detail to give perspective (size, colour, nature etc). Avoiding the face respects the spottee’s anonymity.

Else you’re just going to have to rely on my two eyes!

I’ll open I Style! with an image of a man who shows us the way. Meet…

Khalil Gebran
Fashions Designer

Jeffrey Archer on Landmark tour!

..proclaims a hoarding on Andheri Link Road a few feet before Infiniti Mall which houses the Landmark store. The lower two floors look fairly sane, I think to myself as far as weekdays go. Even the second floor which looms into sight as the escalator rides up looks remarkably normal. Then I notice the mountain of bags lying at the entrance. And I’m stopped by the polite but firm female guard who shakes her head almost sorrowfully and tells me that I cannot carry my battered copy of As the Crow Flies in.

I push my way past the jewelery counter, the New Releases rack and past the music section. Voila!! What’s a celebrity without the crowd? Archer has succeeded in drawing the mob to the store on a weekday. It’s so crowded that people are stepping on each other’s toes even among the magazines racks that signal the start of that heaven that is Landmark’s book section.

I slither through the crowd in a manner perfected by years of Mumbai train travel and end up right at the back, smushed up against Movies while Jeffrey Archer regales a crowd from a stage in what is otherwise the aisle between Maps and Language.

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The last fifteen days of summer!! Already the dark clouds have started gathering in the sky, heralding the onset of monsoon…very soon. *Sigh* Three months of muddy feet, browned clothes, greasy hair and the sniffles. The whole country thinks that rains are romantic and looks forward to the dark clouds with eagerness; I don’t. This isn’t a pretty city and it gets uglier in the rains. Trains stop, traffic stalls, roads flood and everyone’s passing colds to each other. Moreover it reminds me of that miserable time heralding the start of a new school year right after a delightful vacation. ‘Back to the grind’ is the overwhelming feeling I have right through Mumbai’s monsoon.

But today the sun shines and on Random Shuffle, I drift into the streams of

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it’s all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say it’s all right

What spells summer better than aamras? Succulent golden-yellow mangoes with their insides scooped out and beaten to smooth consistency. Sweet, so sweet that you can put the sugar-can away.

The thing that makes a city interesting is the fact that there could be a surprise waiting for you at any corner. I often think I’m jaded with the proverbial ‘I’ve seen it all’ attitude to things that are supposed to catch my interest. And then I’m proven wrong.

Here’s what I spotted on a late evening in the local train. Orange transparent plastic sandals fastened on with a fat ribbon in a matching hue. How could I not stop and stare?!

Anjani, the owner of those tangy toes (I love aliterations!) works in merchandising a fashion retail business. She was also gracious enough to let me take a photograph for this blog. She isn’t a Mumbaiker (still bothered by the weather and the crowd) but she isn’t new to the city either. But in my mind she represents the colourful panorama of this city, shifting smoothly between outsider, newcomer and seasoned local.

Ooh, the sheer audacity of the design, the spunkiness of the colour..it totally made my otherwise dreary day! Notice the contrast between the shoe and the surroundings - a typical dark-and-dingy platform on a Mumbai railway station.

In fact, now I think I’ll start a section where I report interesting fashion ’spottings’ in the city. (See an earlier sighting here!)Thank you, Anjani, for inspiration and for the colour!

I stopped by this pavement stall last evening. It has been…oh, so very long..since I visited this place. Getting to be a real book-snob, are we, patronizing only the big bookstores? Yet, the bookseller recognized me in trice and his eyes bore no rebuke.

There’s one at every corner, if you know where to look and I’ve given away a few of my secrets before. This is (or used to be) one of my favorite haunts before convenience and credit cards took over.

From the evergreen Sidney Sheldons, John Grishams and Jeffrey Archers to the ubiquitous management books, this place still holds its charm. It’s hard to supress that innate sense of superiority in pulling out a book and placing it in the ‘right’ stack along with others in the genre. So pop fiction to the sides, classics in the middle, bestsellers on top. Then realisation strikes that the dynamics of cataloguing work differently in a street-stall.
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Unless I’m greatly mistaken, these are the pipes that one uses to smoke ganja? I remember seeing these in little shops on my way home from school as well, and wondering what they were. Back then, I figured they were some special attachment to be used on taps. My curiosity continues unabated and I’m still wondering whether these aren’t illegal. If I’m right, they are…sort of.

I could be wrong, however. Does anybody know what these things are used for? I didn’t have the nerve to walk up to the shopkeeper and ask him. He didn’t seem perturbed by my taking photographs though.

I remain a Mumbai train loyalist. Not only is the Mumbai Metropolitan Railway, the fastest way to get from Point A to Point B in Mumbai, it also gives you a slice of what I think of as ‘the real Mumbai life’. Frantic students cramming in seat-huddles tell you that the board examinations are around the corner. A bling-ey group chatters away about the wedding they’re off to in the matrimony season. Office-goers - peons, sales executives, doctors, journalists run shoulders (okay, bodies) in the nau-dabbon-ki-jalad-lowkulll.

And speaking of dabbas, how about the other dabbas? The ones carrying piping hot nourishment, lovingly made by mothers and wives and cooks across the city and delivered Just In Time for lunch to their hungry patrons? To the uninitiated, the dabbawallas are a network of deliverymen who carry lunchboxes from homes to offices and back using a never-fail above-world-class system of colour coding. An Ivy League US b-school used them as a case study and the concept has picked up much visibility since then.
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So much of the colour at Kala Ghoda comes from not just the artists but the visitors as well. That little street is awash with colour. Art students display their fledgling works. Aspiring writers congregate with journalists. Photographers stroll around, cameras casually hung around their necks. Families wander around wonder and curiosity writ large on their faces. Busy corporate types step out to ‘catch the fest’, ties loosened around their necks and their reactions escaping from their normally controlled faces. Tourists bustle about, wide-eyed at the colour. Teenagers mill about, their natural energy, for once, shared by everyone in the crowd alike, age irrespective.

The different faces of the city walk around marveling at the sights. And at each other.

The festival seems to bring out the hidden artist in everyone as the visitors all sport their own brand of individual colour.

Art in its many forms is never as evident as it is in this part of the year. When you walk very close to one of the buildings, you can hear strains of music. As you pass, it gives way to announcements for a children’s event in the parking lot. A little furthur and the organisers are ushering participants into the next workshop or film. Look around and suddenly you’re very aware of art in daily life.

Art is about self-expression, isn’t it? And freedom. And power. And a wry sense of humour.

As you walk around, you marvel at how much beauty, how much raw energy there is, hidden deep inside the people you see every single day. And what happens when they let a bit of their colours show.

The art district of Mumbai is hosting a festival. Movies are being screened, workshops conducted, books discussed, plays (and other acts) staged. There is also a mela happening!

Don’t believe me?

Here is a potter. He beckons…come closer. A grinning imp, paint streaked across his face settles down to touch the clay.

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