The Idea-smithy

On Sunday, violence erupted in Mumbai (not again…). Taxi-drivers, paan-wallas and ‘outsiders’ (read UPites and Biharis) were the target of assault by frenzied MNS supporters. In an is-it-related-or-not incident, Amitabh Bachchan’s house was attacked the next day, spurred by resentment towards his move to set up a girls’ school in Uttar Pradesh rather than Maharashtra.

I was at home on Horror Monday (Can we call it that? - We’d probably have to name at least one day each month for the sundry episodes of communal clashes that errupt so frequently in this so-called cosmopolitan metropolis). The news channels had a field day running and re-running the clips of a taxi-driver being dragged out of his car and beaten to pulp and soundbytes with the public expressing their outrage at this breach of peace.

Yesterday a reader wrote to me saying that he’d dropped into my blog for news on this event and was disappointed to hear me talking about art and festivals instead. Point taken. I’m part of that unconcerned, educated upper-middle class elite that tut-tuts about the ruin our politicians are bringing to the country and then does nothing about it.

To be quite honest, I don’t know what to say. On one hand, we’ve gotten practically used to cricket pitches being dug up, shops shut down, bandhs called, trains delayed, people being beaten up by the saffron brigade. And then there’s the reality that the news channels rarely, if ever, cover the truth as is.

As a point of fact, I travelled across the city yesterday and today. For all purposes Mumbai is its usual bustling, thriving self. It’s like it might not have been at all.

And then I wonder, how does the driver of the taxi I’m in, feel? Is he really waiting for the signal to change or is he actually casting a wary eye around at would-be attackers? How about the doodhwala by whose doorbell ring we can set our alarm clocks? To be here at 5:30 a.m. I only wonder what time he’d have to get up. The much-maligned autorickshaw-wallas?

At the end of all that, I wonder, does it matter? Does the MNS or Shiv Sena before them really believe that they can ‘rid’ Mumbai of its outsiders? More likely, no one’s thinking or caring about that far into the future. It’s the here and now. Any publicity is good publicity, be it ever so blood-spattered.

And guess what - it’s the lower extremes that get the cut, like extensions getting pruned away. Who cares, they’ll grow back tomorrow! So while AB gets his security beefed up, our roads are awash with lingering fear writ large on the faces of nameless people who make this city run.

I’m just wondering if the welfare of Maharashtrians is the cause, is anyone thinking of what’s happening within the state? But I suppose dying farmers aren’t as catchy a story. So much easier to just grab a punching bag.

In a related aside, do read this post and the comments that follow. The image I’m carrying in my mind is of a fat goose that lays golden eggs. Everyone’s trying to get a piece of it and brush off everyone else’s hands..and so what if the goose is strangulated in the process?? That’s Mumbai.

I’ve spent the entire weekend at Kala Ghoda!! I’ve been a regular visitor to the festival these years and thus far my KGAF experience has been limited to perusing the sidewalk outside Jehangir Art Gallery and ooh-ing and aah-ing about the artwork. This year I’m super-excited this time round because of my increased participation. Like last year, I’m writing for the Kala Ghoda Gazette and for the first time I’m actually participating in the events. You can see my more detailed account of the events here.

The Festival is in its 10th year of existance. In the past years I’ve seen a gradual decline with the one rather regrettable year where all I remember of it was a row of food stalls (though my first experience of Kheer Kodom from Sweet Bengal did leave sweet memories). However it looks like the Black Horse has given itself a good shake since last year was an improvement. And this year is positively mind-boggling!

We enter to a cacaphony of lost kids’ announcements flanked by a tent that reveals several messy-fingered children running around wearing Surf Excel ‘Daag achche hai’ tee-shirts. A painting competition is in progress one presumes. There is also a huge whiteboard for kids to express themselves.

We walk around the various art installations and I’m alternately amused and annoyed. I hear one man tell another

Kuch bhi bana dete hai yeh artist log!!

referring to an exhibit of a buzzing mosquito/fly/insect made of metal wires and sundry parts. A girl is posing over a painted motor-bike in a corner while her friend takes a photograph. I resist the urge to yank her off it and tell her that it’s an exhibit in an art festival, not a prop in a photographer’s studio. I wonder what the artist must feel.

The crowds are thronging the food stalls and the stage. That’s quite descriptive of Mumbai, I think. Roti ke liye kuch bhi karega and Tamasha dekh! are this city’s twin motivations. I remember an episode from one of the years past, watching an angry man screaming at the waiters in one of the food stalls.

Call the manager!!! Yahan food khaya yesterday and dysentry ho gaya!

I was amused and not in the least bit sympathetic. Such a ” ” I thought, to eat food off the street as part of an ‘experience’ and then complain about the quality. Where does he think he is - the Reagent? Besides I added as an after-thought, only one of those types would fall sick eating roadside food. After all my gastroentitis attack last year happened after consuming a spinach pasta at one of Bandra’s fancy restaurants not my usual evening bhelpuri off the roadside. Even so, I sniff my plate cautiously before ordering what I hope is a ’safe’ plate of kebabs.

Along the way I bump into familiar faces - colleagues, friends, fellow-bloggers. The culturally-conscious circle in Mumbai is a small tight knit group and bloggers are an even smaller fraction of them. The crowd is almost as interesting as the exhibits with stiff MBA-types (from Nariman Point one presumes) jostle with arty jhola-toting bohemians and inter-mingle with a lot of foreign tourists. Kids are running helter-skelter everywhere and I imagine that their parents are going to have a hell of a time explaining some of the photographs and exhibits on display.

Don’t read that aloud! That’s a bad word (from the photo-exhibit on Mumbai’s train graffiti)

Yes, that’s a fan. Hmm, it does look like an insect. Because the artist thought so, that’s why!! It’s called Modern Art (shakes head and moves away)

The Dilliwalla with me soon gets bored and wants to push off and watch a movie instead.

Yeh kahan mele mein leke aa gayi, yaar??!!

And his rueful expression is so comical that I concede, though not before sampling a panipuri and buying something from the blue pottery stall. On the way, I’m approached by several strangers attempting to recruit me into protesting against garbage dumping in India, preventing smoking, helping children and supporting battered women. I wonder what their connection with art is but I guess good causes need more force of will than invitations.

Before we leave, I manage to get a bird’s eye view of the next act on stage. And I think, my friend would never understand why the festival means so much. In a city that’s eternally chasing dreams that keep getting broken, that tries to burn the candle at every end possible and make them all meet as well, where even the air looks dirty……..art can remind us of beauty, of joy, of expression and also…to laugh at ourselves. It’s a Mumbai thing, after all.

Did you ever think of performing poetry? Or SMS as an art form? Did you ever think that Bollywood was Mumbai’s only claim to culture? It’s time for you to meet the black horse then.

Welcome to the Kala Ghoda Art Festival - an eclectic extravaganza of art, music, poetry, theatre, film and writing expression. The KGAF is an annual event and yes, the 2008 edition starts tomorrow!

So take a quick trip down to the southern end of the seven islands. For a teaser….there will be celebrity spottings too!

I’ll be there over the weekend and covering it over here in the next few days. I highly recommend you pay a visit - to the festival and the blog! See you there!

It seems almost pathetic to call the sight of satellite dish antennae, scaffolding rods and TV aerials beautiful. But that’s what the skyline in Mumbai looks like. And even for a jaded, gritty city-zen, the freshness of that undefinable colour of light creeping up behind the buildings before the sun is mesmerizing.

And down below, in the heart of the darkness is that which distinguishes this from any other skyline. A small fire glowing, warming a faceless entity. Watchman? Slum-dweller? Milk shopkeeper? Just another one of those people who’re up and awake and keep the city bustling while some of us slumber in the city that never sleeps.

It’s January and time for all of Mumbai’s iconic events. After the Mumbai Marathon and the Mumbai Festival comes the Strand Book sale. Book-lovers across the city have looked forward to this annual event far before the gleaming interiors of the other bookstores came into being.

While on this, here’s something that was written sometime back but will still be of interest to anyone who’s kicked about the Strand Book sale.

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Much as I love this city, the one thing I have to admit it doesn’t satisfy is my raging craving for books. Mumbai isn’t a booklover’s city. There aren’t nearly as many people in this place that love books.

Still I can see the winds of change blowing over the Island. J.K.Rowling may not have added to fine literature but she did bring an entire generation of children back to books. And some adults as well, judging by the number of Harry Potters I’ve seen being toted around to bus-stops, on train journeys, coffee shops and what-nots.

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Over these years of nosing around for good reads, I think I’ve developed a kind of sense for bookshops across the city. So here’s a list of the places I love because they cater to the one vice I admit to.

THE GIANTS:

Landmark: Heading my list is this huuuuuggggge bookshop in the heart of Andheri West. You may wonder what a bookshop of this magnitude is doing, bang in the middle of “I’m so duuuuhhhh, but I’m beautiful, yeah” land. They must have known what they were doing since Landmark is getting a lot of recognition. It was probably set up to cater to the burgeoning suburbs taste for books but now it has become the new hotspot for readers from across the city.

Landmark has two things going for it: A great collection and staff that really do know books. They’re friendly without being intrusive and always willing to assist, no matter how ludicrous the query. I was super-impressed to see that their categories included Humour, Classics, Science Fiction and Modern Fiction….all of which are usually clubbed together in certain other wannabe bookshops.

Oxford: I discovered this place rather late, inconveniently located as it is, at the other end of town. My few visits tell me that this is probably the second-best place for books in the city. I won’t wax eloquent on its interiors, the coffee shop and the multitudnous collection of books. Suffice to say, this is one other place that has a good collection and friendly staff that actually know their books. What more does a good bookshop need?

Nalanda: This is the bookshop in the Taj hotel lobby. It is small (not in size but in terms of how many books they could have stuffed in there) but it has a reasonable collection. In the absence of Landmark and Oxford, this is where I used to buy my original, ‘good’ books.

Grand Maratha Sheraton: I haven’t visited their bookshop myself but Filmiholic tipped me off to this place, adding that,

People may roll their eyes at this, but I was quite surprised to find that the Grand Maratha, waaaaaaaaaay out by the airport (but so comfy to stay at), has a compact but well stocked bookshop, especially for anyone looking for books about India, be they fiction or non-fiction.

For example, two surprises were that they carried Sooni Taraporevala’s reissued coffeetable book on Parsis, and a massive road map/atlas of Bombay that I had called several large Crossword’s for, to no avail.

Seeing how long it takes to get there from downtown, I wouldn’t go just for the bookstore, but if one is out there for some other reason (afternoon quickie?), it’s worth popping in.

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THE SHOPS AROUND THE CORNER: That description is supposed to be reminscent of Meg Ryan’s place in ‘You’ve Got Mail’. Yes, Mumbai has it’s own answer to her store. Several, in fact. You just have to look carefully. Here are my favorite friendly neighborhood bookshops.

The new & second-hand bookshop: The jewel of my collection of book-troves in this city, I actually have a nice little story to tell about this one. I discovered this place, entirely by mistake. One rainy, depressing afternoon, I was wandering about town, close to St.Xaviers’ college. I trundled down the filthy little lane that’s across the signal from the college’s road (that is the lane on the right of Furtado & sons, who are the place to visit if you want to pick up a musical instrument). I don’t know quite why I was there and alone of all things, getting soaked in the rain but I know I was looking for a bookshop. Ahem…so I’m slightly mad sometimes….to go looking for a bookshop in a random corner of the city. But you know what…I actually found it! A few mucky steps down that road, on the left, hidden away so you almost miss it is a little doorway with a dusty magazine rack (you know the kind that swirls around and is used to stack tourist guides in hotels and airports?). When you see that, you’ll be standing at the entrance to the New and Second-hand bookstore. Can I be corny and sing a line?

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave….

That’s how I felt when I left the shop that day. Incidently this first visit there, I spent over 2 hours in the shop. Imagine a dusty, high-ceiling room stacked ceiling to floor with books, pillars too…except they aren’t pillars, they’re more stacks of books. Turn the corner and try to keep from screaming if you see a little old man at the desk. That’s the person who’ll make your bill and he’s very nice. I usually pick up a bookmark at the shop that I buy a book in and in this place I picked two of the nondescript paper strips stamped with the shop’s name. This man looked at me for a minute and then suddenly spread out a whole lot of bookmarks on the table. I’ve never seen bookmarks like these…there was one in leather, one with a hand-painted Krishna and several other masterpieces. I looked at him ruefully and said,

They’re lovely. But I’ve spent all my money. I’ll come back next time for them, will you save them for me?

He smiled and said,

They’re for you. I can recognize a book-lover when I see one and I know these will be appreciated.

Yes, sir, I have. I’ve actually never used a single one of them, they’re just too precious a gift. And a lovely memory of a stranger who reached out to a fellow booklover, even if she was a muddy-toed, vagrant-like teenager.

Horizon: Now this isn’t a dusty, musty old shop, its just a tiny (and I mean REALLY tiny) nook that stores books. Horizon’s charm comes from the fact that it is a book-oasis bang in the middle of a busy, bustling vegetable market and stone’s throw away from the noise & bustle of the railway line.

Get off Vileparle station (Western line) and come out of on the west side. This spills you out onto a madly busy road and straight ahead, the sights and smells of the sabzi-mandi will greet you. Take a sharp turn to your left and look for a roadside magazine stall across the road (next to the corner restaurant and veggie-seller). If you have sharp eyes, you’ll spot a nicely paved path leading in from next to the mag-seller. Go down there and on your left you’ll spot Horizon. Step up and step into the wonderful world of book-browsing. The owners are wonderfully emphatic of penniless students and generally broke people who love books. If you like looking, they won’t mind your being there…there’s even a comfortable little stool for you to perch on…tiny, in keeping with the size of the place. If you know me in person, do tell the owner….some of our conversations date back 10 years.

Book Lovers: Another one in the same genre as Horizon except this one is right at the start of Lokhandwala market (closest to Andheri station, Western line. Also very close to Infinity mall, Fame Ad labs and Lakshmi Industrial Estate). I don’t find the owner of this place as friendly as Horizon but well, maybe he just is a quiet type and after all he and I don’t go back 10 years. However, the people who run this place are well-informed about books and will be able to procure a copy of whatever you want if you don’t have it. Incidently they’re probably losing business to Landmark these days so they might have some good offers available. The last I heard there was a 25% off on all books….which is great, I say.

Granth: This is another Horizon-like shop furthur north. The first Granth was set up in a mall in Malad. Granth is another of those shops that delighted the suburban bibliophile in the late 90s, insofar used to making the trip to TOWN to buy books. Granth’s collection, while compact is diverse enough to hold interest. They’ve expanded now and have another store in Juhu. I’ve been to this new place only once and while it doesn’t compare with Landmark and Oxford, its definitely worth a dekko. The sweeping view next to the couch also helps.

Danai: Located in a quiet lane just off Linking Road (the one stretching from Bandra to Borivali), Danai is one of the earliest book-and-music shops in the suburbs. Their book collection is located in the basement (brightly lit though) while music is housed upstairs. Like many of the other small shops in Mumbai, small spaces make for a restricted collection. Still, they have a really good collection, catering well to certain niches like fantasy fiction, travel guides and occult/astrology.

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READING ON THE GO:

If you aren’t averse to reading books that have already been thumbed through by other people, you’re advised to check out the second-hand book-sellers across the city as well. Raddiwala is the local lingo for junkyard guy and some of these guys stock books that have been out of circulation for years. There’s a raddiwala at almost every corner of Mumbai and you’ll do well to discover your own personal recycler. Some places that I’ve noticed:

Irla bridge: I bet most people don’t even know where Irla is. Well, Irla is the narrow stretch connecting Andheri and Vileparle west. There’s a huge, smelly gutter and the road goes over it and hence….you guessed it, its called Irla bridge. Start walking down from Shoppers’ Stop, crossing a Barista on the way. Just before you reach the nulla, on the same side of the road, you’ll find a raddi-walla…..old newspaper bundles on the floor, back issues of Cosmopolitan, India Today, Business World and Debonair clipped neatly with clothes-clips. If you don’t already know, that’s the standard uniform of any second-hand bookshop.

This guy has a fantastic collection that’s constantly being replenished. Watch it with his attitude though. At the risk of sounding extremely bigoted, you might swing some great deals here if you speak Gujarati and end up paying more (with a few disdainful looks thrown your way) if you don’t. If you’re willing to live with that, check it out, his collection is good. And oh, throw an insult his way for me (I’ve had a few arguments with him…). Or if you speak Gujarati, please do me a return-favour for this tip and get me good bargains.

Andheri station: Come out of the second most maddening railway station in Mumbai (after Dadar) and catch your breath. Cross the road and look around for the telltale stacks of books. Did I miss something? Oh yes, I didn’t tell you east or west (Ain’t I soooo Bambaiyya?). Hmm, that’s because you’ll find a bookseller on either side of the track. The one on the east is a little way to the left of the station exit and across the road, right outside the bunch of shops. The one on the west sits on the pavement of S.V.Road, next to those two corridors full of shops.

Parel/Elphinstone Road railway bridge: Are we starting to sound familiar now? Ah, yes, the Mumbail Railway network seems to be running through my post with the same frequency as it does through the city. Well, I like most true Mumbaikers (so there, townies!) spend a fair bit of time on the train line so my addas are to be found on and around it. Coming back, some people know that the Western and Central railway lines cross at Dadar station. Well, did you know that this connection continues one station furthur south? Parel station on the Central line and Elphinstone station on the Western line are the siamese twins of the Mumbai rail network, connected as they are by one narrow bridge. You can even hear the announcements for one line, on the other platform. Well, what’s the significance of that bit of trivia? The fact that there’s a damn good bookseller perched on that bridge up there. There’re usually two of them, grown-up street kid-like with all the characteristic street-smartness and Mumbaiker warmth. They’re also surprisingly well informed where books are concerned and will be able to hand you just the right books if you ask for say…a Booker winner or perhaps, a volume on hypnosis. The ’shop’ is just a sheet of cloth with books laid out neatly but the collection is big enough to merit a second glance. Please note here that some of the books are reprinted copies of the more expensive publications. Okay that spells PIRACY for a lot of people, so if you have an issue with that, you’ve been forewarned.

Flora fountain: As a book-lover in Mumbai, it is probably vital for me to make a mention of this road close to Churchgate station. True, this used to be the Mecca for us a few years back. However with all the shops getting frequently cleared away and a lot of little ‘konas’ sprouting up in the other parts of the city, Flora just doesn’t do it anymore.

Ah…allow me to reminisce for a moment about the times when I was a penniless student and I’d spend 3 hours walking down this road and spending my hard-saved pocket money on books. I think the total I must have spent at a time on books would have been 800 bucks (top top absolute tops) but I’d go home with bulging bags of cookery books (for mum), a sci-fi (for dad), mystery, self-help, thrillers (for me) and bestsellers (for all of us). Those were the days….and somehow these days when I can walk into a brightly lit, snazzy store and snap up a load of brand-new books on my credit card….it just doesn’t feel the same. Okay, end of nostalgia trip. Sniff snifff.

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You will notice I haven’t made any mention of a certain other well-known chain that’s spread its tentacles across the city. They don’t have a particularly impressive collection unless you read only management books and the ‘faddy’ books. Their staff doesn’t appear to know anything about books and worse still, they’re openly rude and unhelpful. It is a sheer insult to a book-lovers’ intelligence to try and have a conversation with them. If I’m venomous its because I’m appalled by the lack of good service (or books) and what’s more, I now have several alternatives. So chuck the yellow-and-black guys and go out and find some real book-treasure-troves!

These then are the secrets of my bibliophile self, lovingly compiled from my lifelong love affair with books. Happy book-browsing!

As all my friends move into matrimony and kid-bearing and generally ’settling down’, they acquire the other trappings of yuppies - investments! One of my friends thinks that real estate is the best option. So I accompanied her on a ‘window-shopping’ spree, scouting the city for the perfect place of land that she could call her own.

We ended up at Vasai Road. Yes, it has a station of its own on the Western line. What’s more, with the number of overhead bridges with twists and turns and forks, I thought we might have landed up in some future version of Mumbai without the crowds.

With all the snobbery of a middle-class suburbanite I always thought Vasai Road was a part of the ‘outskirts of Mumbai area’, this idea being accompanied by a vague image of dirt roads, cows and fields. Here’s what I found:

While the more fashionable addresses in Mumbai showcase their matchbox flats with parking for..oh, bicycles…we were taken around mini-townships with gardens, schools, walkways and even bungalows and penthouses. The roads were not all in great condition but well, can any part of Mumbai boast of these? At least there were trees! And broad roads!

As the city is progressively gobbled up by commercial buildings, living spaces seem to be moving furthur north to keep up with affordability. Obviously these will probably go the same way as Powai and Malad, getting congested and over-infested with the mall-culture. But for the time being Vasai Road proves to be a lovely haven of refuge from a maddening city.

On the other hand, the commute just might kill you if you work furthur south (which you most probably do considering I haven’t heard of too many offices in the Vasai area). The train ride was sheer madness, even by my hardened train-traveller standards. We had a good 25-minute wait for the train taking us back into terra firma. And by the time the train pulled up, the crowd was 20-deep to the door. It was another half an hour before we wriggled out, swearing off the adventure and taking an auto-rickshaw instead. The Mumbai autos with meters, I mean. My dread of the train was matched only by my first shock at having to travel in a Vasai Road auto-rickshaw without a meter! That’s a crime by Mumbai standards but ah, well we aren’t in Mumbai anymore are we? Not with those lovely roads and open skies, we aren’t!

I visited some friends at their fashionable south Mumbai address recently. Besides braving traffic snarls, congestions and pollution, we spent a good bit driving around looking for parking space. And then finally we had to get down and walk, party finery et al on a broken dog-path (not cow-path because there wasn’t room for any creature bigger than the solitary stray dog I almost fell over). When we finally got there, the house turned out to be a miniscule cubbyhole that seemed even tinier with the guests. And we had a great view of the peeling paint and cracked walls of the building opposite. Of note, the only reason my friends could afford to live in this ‘premium space’ was that their family had owned the flat for generations. Almost grotesque it is then that we continue to place a hellish value on…well, hell.

I guess if you don’t have to travel around too much, if you are a recluse who likes trees and open skies and broad roads, Vasai Road could be the place for you. The city’s madness is only about an hour away….by unmetered auto-rickshaws and crowded trains!

Or if you just need to get away from the madness every once in awhile and find some greenery and open skies, leave the metered madness of Mumbai behind and take a ride north-ward. My friends have invested there and it is to be hoped that their investment will pay off duly early enough for me to have my weekend getaway..before the rest of city discovers it and converges on it.

And finally, this may not be Oz after all, considering that it has an entry on Wikipedia! .

In a city that loves designers, it is always good to go back to the philosophy of raste ka maal saste mein! Take a walk down the street with me while I poke into the tinsel of GlamourTown.

Roti (food), kapda (clothing) aur makan (shelter)…so the dictat goes. Roti (and also naan, idli, dosa, pizza, pasta and pita) is available in an appetizing variety while the glitz and glamour of teeny-weeny kapdas dazzle us. But what of makan? Oh well….life is always something short of perfect. For now, we settle for ramming our fresh fruit purchases in with the bling-thing that we call an LBD (Little Bright Dress!)

This is one of the original ‘moll’s that stroked our wallets long before Atria, CrossRoad, R Mall and In Orbit. Set in the heart of a vegetable/fruit market, it always amuses me to see the rasta-Mumbai rub shoulders with wannabe cool.

But then beauty is always a booming business in showtown. Bangles, bracelets, armlets, necklaces, chains, pendants, rings, hoops, studs, navel-rings, lower-lip piercings, clips, bands, scrunchies, hair grips, henna tattoos…

Any teenager in the city will tell you that the coolest stuff is available off the streets. Who wants to fork out all that money for stuff the whole city is wearing when you can pick up one-of-a-kind trinkets at the numerous tables at every street corner? Self-confessed junk jewellery junkie that I am, I’ve often ended up buying clothes to match stuff that I picked off the roadside stalls!

And for the more intellectually inclined, the streets have something for you as well! For those of us who grew up with bookish tastes, this is an ode to those days of splashing preciously saved pocket-money on recycled and reprinted books. The wonderful (or perhaps not..) thing is that everything is a business in this city and every street-hawker, a master salesman. They may not have studied beyond class 5 but they’ll know the ‘latest, ekdum fast-moving’ authors, related genres and books of interest.

And finally, Mumbai even promises you a trip to the moon and back!!! Don’t you believe me?

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I’ve developed a rather late interest in flowers. And why not? With all the frivolous things that we spend on, a little bit of beauty is much appreciated. Why must a gift always be intelligent or useful? How about just alive? Nothing better than a flower then. Here’s an account of my most recent floral jaunt.

I’m not too fond of big, gaudy bouquets with more plastic and foil than plant. In fact I think the experience of being in a flower shop and watching the nosegays being made is the best part of buying flowers.

The flowers you choose say something about you, don’t they? I love white flowers. Nothing quite like white rosebuds for sheer, intimidating class. Lilies are nice too though a little too goody-goody for my taste…I guess that’s because I associate too many religious myths with them. My favorite white flowers are the unpretentious gladiolas that lurk in the background, bringing a sweet, frilly girlishness to the bouquet. On their own, they are surprisingly appealing.

In ‘You’ve Got Mail’, Meg Ryan calls the daisy her favorite flower, describing it as ‘a very friendly flower’. Zarberas must be an Eastern equivalent of daisies. And slightly more dignified than the over-eager sunflowers. I particularly like the orange variety. There is something clean and colourful about this flower that catches my attention in any flower-shop.

The classic roses always grace flower shops but personally I think they are over-rated and over-used. And what fragrance? I don’t think they’re fragrant at all. For fragrance you need the Indian buds that are knotted painstakingly into ‘ambodas’, garlands and gajras. Olfactory sensations are processed by an area right next door to the central repository of memories in the brain. That might be the reason some smells induce an instant flood of memories. And these fragrant wreaths of Indian flowers always take me back to early childhood with my mother and grand-mother spinning flowers plucked fresh off the vines on the balcony.

The first time I bought someone flowers, I asked around for where I should buy. I visited some of the highly recommended places and was first dazzled by the array of flowers….I never thought there could be so many flowers in the world!!! Dimly, as a concept studied in botany in school, yes but put together in one place like that, the effect was quite gorgeous. Each one had a hefty price tag with a snooty florist quoting the botanical name and which obscure part of the world they were supposed to have originated from. I was quite unnerved. Hmm, that was my mistake.

The flower business like everything else has gotten branded and showy. This time, on a whim, I stopped at a little flower stall I spotted on the corner of a road. Not a florist shop. One of those little outfits that do brisk business off a creaky wooden table on crowded roads. All the photographs in this post are from that visit.

And look at the flowers I finally got!

This is Akhilendra who also moonlights as a production assistant in a shooting studio (I was given a proud preview of his identity card). Akhilendra is not a newcomer to Mumbai. But he had a cheerful ebullience that I missed in all the big florist shops that I visited earlier. He didn’t give me the usual spiel of how many weddings and birthdays he caters to daily and how many dozens people order from him. Instead I was given some expert advice on which flowers I might select and what arrangement might look best.

So the flower business is good?

And production work pays well?

People come buy from you when they are very happy, no?

All my questions met with shy nods and always that quick smile.

What do we look for in flowers? Sweetness, pleasantness, freshness….a modest, unassuming, classy gift. And shouldn’t that describe the attitude of the person who touches the flowers just before us? I found what I look for at a crowded street corner vendor’s table.

Once, during my winter vacations, my grand-mother sent me downstairs to buy some vegetables. I knew nothing about veggies of course but her reassuring face hovered above from the balcony as she said she would point out the fresh ones from the rest. So I skipped down the stairs to catch the vegetable cart. Once I got to the bottom, I realized that he had started wheeling the cart away and was already at the end of the block. As I climbed up again, my grand-mother chided me

Why didn’t you call out for him to stop?

But I did! I kept shouting out ‘Bhajeewala! Bhajeewala!‘ but he didn’t stop!

Oh you silly child! They are called Sabzeewalas!

What? But he is a Bhajeewala, why should I call him anything else?

That’s just to you silly Mumbai people. Look he is back! Go get me some potatoes and onions

So off I went again. I returned in a huff bearing the bulging bags of potatoes and onions.

Your Delhi people don’t know anything! I asked him for ‘Aadha kilo kanda-aadha kilo batata‘ and he looked at me like I was an alien! I had to pick up each vegetable and stand around till he figured I needed bags to carry them up!

My grandmother just smiled and told me that I was looking for aaloo (not batata) and pyaaz (not kaanda). I gave up the argument. How do Delhi-ites ever manage to eat?! I suppose the problem is solved by the new retail habit that my family and friends have acquired.

Big air-conditioned stores that stock multiple varieties of neatly labeled ‘baby potatoes’ and ’shallots’. To be loaded into shiny plastic baskets and dumped into shop-name-bearing bags. With a smart uniformed assistant to ring up the cash register.

But can they match the sheer aesthetics of this?

Wah…muuh mein paani aa gaya! And that’s the same thing in Hindi or Bambaiyya!

This post actually started out as a draft for the ‘7 series’ on Mumbai Metroblogging. It didn’t make the deadline then. Considering that Mumbai trains are in the news again, I think it is worth an airing anyway.

I’m relying on the fact that most of us in this city, live on little oases or islands of our own madness and know very little about the rest of the place. And for outsiders, the beehive is positively mind-boggling anyway. So here’s a special edition of how-to-survive Mumbai by a thoroughbred Mumbaiker.

I always think of the railway network as the central nervous system of this city. It is fairly impossible to get lost in this city. The minute you find yourself out of sorts, you just make your way to the nearest railway station and voila! You’re back on the Mumbai lifeline.

There are three train lines in Mumbai – the Western line, the Central line and the Harbour line. The Western line starts at Churchgate while the other two, both begin in Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus (Oh how I hate that name! It’ll always be V.T. to me). Central and Harbour run together for about 3 stations and then diverge. Central meets Western at Dadar. Harbour on the other hand, rather tricky, forms a ‘Y’, forking off at Wadala, with one arm ending at Andheri and the other moving on towards Panvel.

Since the city is essentially one long strip of islands going North-South, the train lines run that way. Every station has an East and a West side (barring the terminuses of course). Everything in this city is measured by this. Simple logic check: The sea is always on your right when traveling up to town.

Some of the stations on the three lines are designated ‘Fast’ due to their status as key points in the city. Slow trains stop at every station while fast trains stop only at ‘fast’ stations. The exceptions to the fast train rule (that I know of) are the Western line which stops at every station between Churchgate and Mumbai Central before picking up the ‘fast’ pace. If it is a Borivili local it also slows down, stopping at every station after Andheri on.

Each station has a designated 1 or 2 letter code. Careful with these though, ideally these should be standard considering that all 3 train lines are plugged into each other…but they are not.

A step-by-step how-to on making a local train journey in Mumbai:

a. Finding the stations: Figure out the best entry and exit stations. (This may be useful). These are not immediately obvious and I would not recommend relying on the postal address to tell you the best station. Sometimes the nearest station isn’t the one mentioned on the code or you may be closest to really maddening station and the next ‘slow’ one may be a far easier alternative. Ditto on the exit station too. If you are meeting someone at the other end, ask where you should get off. And if your friend doesn’t know either, ask someone who does know. Forget all you’ve heard about this city’s cold-heartendness, people are always willing to help. At worst case, ask the clerk who sells tickets at the counter or the shopkeepers at the station.

b. Buy a ticket: Most stations have a counter on the East and the West side each. A few have them on the overbridge (in addition or in isolation). By default there will be one at the entrance and if you don’t see it, ask someone. It is a fineable offence to travel without a ticket and the T.C. is not likely to be impressed by the story that you were looking for the counter. Please keep your ticket on you for the entire duration of the ride and do not discard until you are safely out of the station. (This may seem obvious but from friends who’ve gotten into trouble for throwing away the ticket after buying it, I know it isn’t) The rules are simple, you should know them and if you don’t, then ask. Of note, probably the one place you can get change is at the train ticket counters. I could be wrong but I’ve haggled with auto-rickshaw drivers, bus conductors and shopkeepers over the elusive 1 or 2 rupee coins but never with an attendant in the train booking counter.

c. Find the train you need to take: The major stations have indicators at the entrance showing the terminus points and departure time of trains leaving from each platform. The smaller stations will usually have them on the overbridges, one each positioned near the staircase going down to the relevant platform. If these two don’t exist, check the one on the platform though this can be a tedious job if you are on a multi-platform station and end up having to run up and down staircases.

d. The compartment: Once you figure out the platform, find out the compartment you have to get into. Mumbai trains have a first-class and a second-class. Most of the compartments are ‘general’ which means both men and women can travel in them but 2 (or 3 depending on which line you’re on) compartments on each train are for ‘ladies’ only. Of these one compartment turns into a ‘general’ after 21:00. Confused? Don’t be. The compartments are marked with red stripes for first-class general and green stripes for first-class ladies. Seasoned travelers know the exact spot on the platform that their compartment will stop at so you can assess from the crowd milling around where you should be. If all else fails, ask. This city may be busy but there will always be people willing to help you.

e. Getting in: This is the biggie, isn’t it? The crowds are intimidating for any new traveler (and hell, some of the old ones too!) Local travelers usually have their little tips and tricks on how to but for the bulk of it, it is simply about gearing up and getting ready to fight for that brief few seconds. Please make sure to stand at least 2 feet away from the edge of the platform….even if you see other people standing closer. Falling incidents, getting run over are common enough. Besides, when the train arrives, you’ll see people hanging on 3-deep and a lot of them have the nasty habit of reaching out and slapping the bystanders. Don’t ask me why, that’s how it is and you just learn to find a way around it.

You are also advised to tie off/put away any loose ends. Flying dupattas, saree palluvs, scarves, stoles and bag straps can becomes nooses when you are caught in the crunch. Preferably keep both hands empty and nothing in a pocket that can be easily accessed. If you are carrying a handbag, wear it the wrong way with the flap pointing towards your body to avoid pickpockets. And finally, wear sensible shoes.

The worst way to get in is go barging right into the center and getting knocked down by the bar in the middle…or worse still…stuck with limbs of each side getting pulled in either direction. I’m not exaggerating, it is fairly painful, not to mention immensely dangerous if this happens as you run the risk of getting stampeded, fractured or falling off when the train starts moving.

Getting in from the very corner seems to be the easiest way but this is a trick mastered by very experienced travelers since you have to not just where the compartment arrives but the exact spot of its corner. Then you have to ensure you are far away enough to avoid the slappers, hang back to avoid being carried along in the current of people getting off and rush forward just at the right time to be able to get in. Not recommended…you don’t have to be the first to get in. Getting in last isn’t a good idea either since you’ll end up standing on the sideboard, feeling pushed outward everytime someone breathes. The middle is the best option.

f. Staying in: I cannot stress how dangerous (and uncomfortable) it is to hang off or even stand on the footboard. Besides the obvious dangers of falling off, you will also be bombarded by a volley of abuses by people inside the train who are being suffocated and resent that you at least have some breathing air. Then you will also be flattened by the new wave of entrants at every station. You are not likely to get a seat unless you are at the terminus point, at least 10 minutes ahead of departure time and that only on a Sunday or holiday.

The seat running from window to window up against the wall can seat 8 Mumbaikers peaceably (and I still resent overweight people when I travel by train…it may not be their fault, but what the hell, in a space-starved compartment, even a few inches extra, inconvenience everyone else). The other seats facing them can seat 3 and a half each. What’s 3 and a half? Of, that means 3 people crammed in tightly while the fourth jams into the 2-inch space left, sitting sideways with legs in passage. About 6 or 7 people can stand in the space between these two rows of seats. It is a common practice when you get into a compartment where all seats are taken, to check where everyone is getting off and ‘reserve’ the seat from there on by telling them. The seatee will in turn help you get the seat when they get up and stand by you if there is any dispute on the seat. Does that sound funny? Try standing in a sardine-packed train for a 40-minute journey, survive one of the frequent fights that erupt and you’ll be more than willing to bargain for a chance to park your butt for 5 minutes. These rules are taken as the law among train-travellers.

g. Getting off: Prepare at least 2 stations in advance. Of note, some trains have a list of the stations stuck to the inside of the compartment just above the entrance. If not, once again, ASK. If you are sitting, stand up, collect your baggage and start the process of moving out towards the central passage.

Do not try to reach the exit since this is neither fruitful nor good Mumbai manners. People will be getting in and out in the interim stations and besides risking being carried off into the wrong station, it is a severe inconvenience for people trying to get in or out. As you near your station, do check if the people ahead of you are getting off as well or whether they are part of the ‘interim/ at the next station’ crowd. If they are, it is perfectly permissible to yell the station that you are getting off at and try to get some leeway to move forward.

Under no circumstances should you get off a train that is moving, even if at a speed slower than your walk. You may be a superb athlete and/or in great condition. If you want to keep things that way just don’t get off a moving train. For starters, speed is not the only thing. There will be (as is the case everywhere in Mumbai) people around. The crowd trying to get in will not appreciate an overeager traveler jumping off into their arms, the crowd inside will cluck in disapproval thinking of the trouble they’ll have trying to get off over your body since it is assumed that you will only fall flat. As a reverse of the getting in, the middle is the best place to be. That way you aren’t pushed out too early and you won’t get swept back in with the current of the incoming crowd. The key to surviving Mumbai’s crowds is to know the current.

And finally my 7 quick survival tips for Mumbai trains:

1. Practise holding your breath at long intervals. Preferably in hot, smelly conditions. Consider carrying an oxygen cylinder, fitted to your cap.
2. Lose as much weight as possible. You are never too thin for a Mumbai train
3. Do stretching exercises. You can also never be too tall for a Mumbai train. But do learn how to duck the holders on the ceiling. Of note, the ones on the Central and Harbour line trains are set lower than the ones on the Western line. Are Western liners just taller?
4. All loose ends must be tucked in, wrapped, knotted. No flying dupattas, palluvs, stoles, bag-straps.
5. Wear closed shoes. Preferably with thick soles and pointed toes to edge your way in
6. Carry a bag that doesn’t bulge too much, doesn’t open easily, will not separate from its handle/strap on pressure and can fit comfortably under your armpit.
7. Wear chest-pads. Elbow-guards too, with spikes if possible.

Bon voyage!