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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This is a classic snap of obeying the “letter of the law” but failing the “spirit of the law”

Taken at a traffic light, the rider of the motorcycle is wearing a helmet, while the passengers are not. Their lives are not as important as the riders, even though they are one big happy family.

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.

Long, bumpy rides in Mumbai’s bylanes bring you face to face with some terribly amusing sights.

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This is a follow up to my post about Bombay as a City State. And also a follow up to all the posts here about Scum Sena.

Aroon Tikekar writes a wonderful commentary on the Identity crisis facing the “marathi manoos” in Bombay.

There was a time when Parsi businessmen and industrialists from Mumbai preferred to employ the ‘Marathi manoos’ in their offices, for he was hard-working, sincere and honest. He had respect for scholarship, was kind to subordinates and obedient to employers.

His work ethics earned him esteem from those around him. To be Marathi was like an additional qualification in Mumbai and white collar jobs were waiting for migrants from the hinterland of Maharashtra.

Then Mumbai became the dreamland for all Indians and its commercial success created a wide gap between the success and failure, wealth and poverty. Politicians always have a field day in such situations and so was the case in Mumbai. Extreme successes bred disrespect for law; extreme failures gave birth to discontent. This combined to increase social tensions.

The reaction of the diehard Marathi Mumbaikars to all what was thus happening in the city was one of anger and dissatisfaction, for they had not anticipated a challenge to their future. They had shed blood for the inclusion of Mumbai in Maharashtra as the state capital after the reorganisation of the bilingual state of Bombay in 1960.

But their dreams turned sour after the initial euphoria of the creation of Samyukta Maharashtra was over. The continuous influx of people from every nook and corner of the country, made them uneasy and they felt that their hold on the city was being threatened with every wave of migration.

This is proved by how quickly Marathi Mumbaikars unite even at the slightest suggestion of Mumbai being separated from Maharashtra.

Read the entire article here.

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.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

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In a city that loves designers, it is always good to go back to the philosophy of raste ka maal saste mein! Take a trip 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!)
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Over the centuries, human population is in flux and people move from the hinterland to urban megapolii. Nowhere in India is it more prominent than in Bombay. As much as the Shiv Sena would like to claim that Bombay is all about the “Marathi Manoos”…knowing the Shiv Sena, I would say it is “despite” the MM.

There is no larger melting pot than Mumbai and Biharis rub shoulders on the local trains with Gujjubhais. South Indians (or as we love to call them all….Madrasis)jostle with Punjabis for the same square inch of pavement, to walk, to work and what not.

Migrants over centuries built this city, and that is the crux of this nice article by Bachi Karkaria in the TOI.

More than any other metropolis, Mumbai is native-neutral, whatever the Shiv Sena may like to project. Migration is a continuous-process industry here, and the city would be non-existent without migrants. This is exactly the opposite of the pattern in Chennai and Kolkata, places firmly rooted in their mono-chauvinism.

……Yet, contrary to Jug Suraiya’s premise, this does not make for a disparate anonymity where you can get away with murder or molestation. Quite the opposite. You learn to adapt, and live in the togetherness of strangers. In fact, communal angularities have full rein in the company of your own kind. Outside it, it is imperative that you emery them down. This is why the Goan makes good outside Goa;, the Bengali does better outside the stifling cultural terrorism of Kolkata; the Punjabi is so much quieter outside Delhi. As a Parsi, I could have claimed Mumbai as my patrimony, but I was a migrant too from the communal outpost of Kolkata, and the first thing that struck me was that the resident of the baugs and colonies was almost a different species from the Parsis back home.

Continue reading the entire article here.

Watch out for the Parsi bikers as they criss-cross through the city on January 6 for peace. Organised by the Parsi Resource Group, the rally will begin from the Dadar Parsi Gymkhana. The registration fee is Rs 200 and includes lunch, T-shirt and cap.

Click here for more info

This makes my blood boil. Bombay has for ever been one of the safest cities in the world, especially for women. But two occurances like this last year and again this year, is just not acceptable.

A mob of 70-80 men groped and molested two young women for some 15 minutes on a busy main street in Mumbai’s glamour district Juhu early on New Year’s Day.

An identical incident had shamed India’s safest city exactly a year ago — a girl was molested by New Year’s eve revellers at the Gateway of India. That incident was captured on film by a popular Mumbai tabloid; Tuesday morning’s horror was shot by two Hindustan Times lensmen who happened to be on the spot.

The women — one in a black dress, the other in a jeans and top — emerged from the JW Marriott with two male friends around 1.45 am, and began walking towards Juhu beach close by.

A mob of about 40 got after them and began teasing the women. One of the women swore loudly at the hooligans.

But the mob, now 70-80 strong, wouldn’t let go. They trapped the women near a vehicle and a tree, and pounced on them. A man in a white shirt tore off the black dress. Another, in a blue shirt, led the assault. As the women fell on the ground, dozens of men jumped on them. [link]

The newspaper article goes on to say that the inspector rushed at the mob weilding his cane. For once I wish he had removed his gun and fired a few rounds.

No seriously, you may say….arZan…that’s barbaric. And I reply that yes what the mob did was barbaric, and for once should be dealt with in equal measure.