VT aka CST

It's a poster for the chaos theory. That many people in quick-step, doing a strange a-mathamatical waltz, tiny ants weaving their way to their movable mound. It's a wonder how this post-colonial left over can stand so opulently, gazing down at Mumbai's millions, while smilingly ushering them into her cavernous interiors. Till now, I was one of those little ants, zooming to my destination, auto-pilot deployed. At least until, I stopped and looked and clicked.

Bazaar Street, Bandra

Divide and Rule. Sound familiar? Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to the days of the Raj, the British one. They made a fine art out of politicing and playing one group of those 'natives' against another, while they sat with their silly wigs in perfect order exploiting the hospitality of some simpering monarch or the other. You would think we've learned our lesson. That we would rather tar and feather ourselves than to emulate the twisted ways of our former oppressors.


I was watching a news story today, about some school kids who have sent an open letter to Raj Thakerey requesting him to put an end to divisive politics. With the media omnipresent in our little urban bubble, these kind of pleas rarely fall on deaf years. Gone are the days when Raj's uncle, the much-feared Balasaheb, could quietly go about his racial profiling, back in the 70s, unblinded by the media glare.


By 2015, Mumbai will have 30 million people. With thousands arriving everyday in this Mecca of moolah, from every conceivable corner of our country, it doesn't look like the 12-15% of the Maharashtrians will have too much of a say. But does that mean that this peace loving, extraordinarily hospitable community of people would want the thuggery of Raj's Maharashtra Navnirman Sena to be their face? And this isn't something the MNS believed in. Till recently the Shiv Sena, now headed by cousin Uddav was content to woo North Indians, putting their money on the vote bank. Considering that he was spurned as Balasaheb's successor, after putting in more than a decade of party work before Uddav even considered politics, it isn't surprising that Raj branched off to form the MNS. Even less surprising that he almost always tries to oppose the senior Sena's mandates.


Walking down Bazaar Street in Bandra, the start of Mumbai's suburbia, it was hard to see eye to eye with Sena politics. Here North Indian bhaiyyas selling fruit shoot the breeze with local merchants; the azaan from a tiny mosque rises up in perfect harmony with the evening mass, from an even tinier church; meat shops rub shoulders with the freshest of vegetables; a bunch of boys chattering in Marathi lug an unwieldly cushion with a Santa Claus mask on it, asking for Christmas contributions (on pressing for information it was revealed that they were out of rubber balls to play cricket); barbers shear through the hair of many faiths; every corner holds a new smile, more beaming than the earlier one; a motley bohemian bunch demand a group snap, though most of them have never even met each other before; languages float by my ears, like the notes of an orchestra, as a variety of food being prepared conjures up fragrances to bring the most benign appetite to life. All this on one narrow decrepit street. Bursting with life, oblivious to its secularism.


While I would be foolish to take this as a microcosm of Mumbai, I'm going to do that anyway. More as a hope than a conclusion. Mumbai's future is in inclusion, not division.


If they can do it, Raj saheb, why can't you?

Sunrise, sunset

Masinagudi

Masinagudi

Masinagudi

Mumbai

Masinagudi

Mumbai

Hampi

Masinagudi

Masinagudi

Masinagudi

.....and who knows which is which...

From The Vault

Exhausted
Lost
Asleep from day

No shady deals
Just fishy steals
And the cats love her

Fixing tyres
From Bandra to Andheri
Taxing circumstances

Thrice blessed
Tiny Gods
Lucky me

I'll see you

"And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime."

"If you can hear this whispering you are dying."

"I never said I was frightened of dying."

GET ROGERED HERE

P.S. those were just lyrics, for you well meaning folk who might think I'm on the edge. And for the record, death doesn't frighten me..hehehe

Couple

The bottle dangles in my lifeless fingers
Explaining my prone form
Some look
Some smile
Some laugh all the while
But I still lie there
Stupor man
Lost to the world
Lost in my mind
Sun and rain, day and night
The poison owns me
And my kind
I try to purge
I try to repent
I try to try to try to stop
But it never works
And then I drop
Down on my knees
At first
Then in my eyesI drop down low
When will I ever be awake?
No one knows.

I once was young
With a degree to show
I thought I'd move mountains
And molehills would run
The very skies would open

To shower their love
I thought I could do anything
And then do some more
Money, its a crime
It made me dream
It made me hope
But then it sent me crashing down
Far below
Roped in
Reigned
To a horse and carriage
And I couldn't shout
I wanted to scream
I even tried
But I knew the owner
Would throw me out
Then the streets would call my name
I could never live through that shame
So I take them for rides
Children and lovers
Families and firangs
All sit behind me
And hear my tale
Until I hasten
There's money to be made.

Dhoom Diwali Dhamaka Mumbai Ishstyle

It's 5 am. I'm traversing the deep caverns of my subconscious when a boom cracks through and nearly destroys my sanity. Welcome to Diwali in Mumbai. It doesn't stop there. The kids here are a lot more sadistic. They don't burst all their bombs in quick succession (the crackers in question are the ear piercing 'atom' variety). Instead they give you 5 minute gaps of blissful silence and just when you've let your mind slide back into some shut eye, another sonic blast, another cry of anguish and I'm feverishly grabbing every pillow I can find, under which I can stuff myself.



Then there was the October heat, combining the baking suffocation of Delhi and the damp stickiness of Mumbai. Never before have I shed tears at the first cool draught of an AC. Deliciously cold showers and blissfully tall cool glasses of water also served to assuage the scorching. I always maintained that there is NOTHING like water. I stand vindicated once more.


This was a time for family as well, close, large, affectionate, boistrous, ages ranging from 2 months (I've become a fond uncle again) to 90. As usual my hair, surplus and curly as it is was a topic of great discussion. There were cousins who proudly proclaimed that I look like Mangal Pandey, some who expressed envy, some who ribbed me about looking like a girl from behind ("oh Hari we could be sisters!" :D), some quietly disapproving, some more vociferously and an ever growing queue of aunts who have threatened to chop it all off in my sleep. Funny sight that would've been, a lanky lad running through the streets of Mumbai, screaming, "My hair, my hair." I've had nightmares about this. *Shudder* But none of that happened and we all instead discussed various treatments and shampoos, very useful indeed considering the origin of my wild hair genes.

I managed to catch up with some old and dear friends in the process. J, Ridhi and Ann it was fantastic to hang out with you again, after AGES!



Diwali here holds special significance to all Mumbaikars. The religious ramifications apart, it is a time to take a breath in a city that never rests. It is a time to rediscover family ties. It is a time to decorate - almost every home, Bandra bungalow to Dharavi hovel sport a wide range of decorations and lights, turning a dour, don't-have-time-for-you Mumbai into a veritable fairyland of good cheer and colours. It is a time to smile and laugh, a time to love and this is starting to sound like Turn!Turn!Turn! :D


Quite an apt song for a Dhoom Diwali Dhamaka Mumbai Ishstyle.

MORE MUMBAI HERE

P.S. Mumbai is a street photographers multiple-O. I'm sure many people will heartily agree.