Lord Archer entered about fifteen minutes past seven, by which time the book section at Landmark, Infiniti Mall was completely packed. There might have been a moment or two when I doubted if as many would turn up as last year. But I needn’t have worried. All of Archer’s fans were there – some new ones too.  They came to be charmed, to be  entertained… and no one went home disappointed.

While it’s been a while since I last read Archer (the last one I read was Twelve Red Herrings in 1994), I don’t doubt that the books are engaging – going by the stories he told at the store. He told stories of joining the Samajwadi Party and being Transport Minister, but my favourite was the one where his American publishers , Simon and Schuster, tried everything in the proverbial book to get him into the top 15 of the NYT bestseller list.

It was 15 minutes of a lovely, animated saga of how they flew him on the Concorde, put him up at the Waldorf Astoria, and got him two minutes on the Good Morning America show. Despite being instructed to mention the title as often as he could, he spent all of it describing the Concorde. After many botched attempts, success in the American mainstream came when Johnny Carson, while introducing Lord Archer, told his 53 million-wide audience,

Kane and Abel is one of the best books I have ever read. I stayed up all night turning page after page and I would recommend that each of you buy a copy.

A week later, Kane and Abel was #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, and stayed there for 6 weeks.

Jeffrey Archer tells the Kane and Abel story

The thing about being backstage at these events is that you catch the authors/artists as they actually are, egoistic, eccentric, or not at all. But whatever Lord Archer’s personal faults be, there is no doubting that he’s truly happy that so many people show up to see him. He doesn’t leave till every last book is signed, no matter if it takes two hours and that he’s pushing seventy. He always has a smile for you and your camera, no matter how many flash bulbs have gone off in his face. And that makes everything okay as far as I am concerned.

You can still catch him at Landmark, Pune, Moledina Road on the 17th of May. The last event is at Landmark Bangalore, Forum Mall, Jaya Nagar on the 18th of May. Both events start at 7:00 p.m.

It rained heavily in Dadar the day before. For a moment I wondered if I should return home rather than negotiate the stretch from the platform to the over-bridge and beyond.

Along the road bridge that passes by the station and flooded with rainwater is a narrow lane that exits in the direction of Lower Parel. It is squeezed between two rows of flower sellers, one with their backs to the bridge, squatting with flower baskets in front, and the other operating from tiny shops opposite where flowers strung together hang from hooks in the ceilings.

One lot of passengers exit the station in the direction of Matunga, the other in the direction of Lower Parel, while the third disappear into the bustle of Dadar’s markets and beyond, maybe to Prabhadevi.

On rambling days rainwater can be fun. But on crowded weekdays flowing rainwater, after unsuccessfully seeking storm water drains, will have washed a hundred hurrying feet before washing mine, a service I would rather be spared of. Add to it rows of early morning customers bargaining over baskets of myriad colourful flowers squeezing the lane further, crowding the narrow passage so thick that I can barely see my own feet as I get nudged and pushed on my way out. I might’ve overlooked this as well if not for the mucky shade the rainwater takes in the lane littered with wasted flowers and leaves, turning the ground beneath my feet to a soggy carpet of squishy muck.

“It is Ganesh Chaturthi, the Municipal Corporation folks must be busy holidaying to turn up to clean this up,” I hear an elderly man say to another. Umbrellas are out. I hold mine firm as it is knocked around by other umbrellas held similarly.

“Fold your umbrella now,” a rotund gent chides me from behind. I realize that I’m better off folding it than fight for umbrella space in a patch of sky barely visible under the rag-tag plastic shelters that the flower vendors have rigged up outside their shops along the length of the lane, narrowing it even further.

Getting off the train I had sprinted up the incline that joins a narrow corridor connecting to a large hallway. There I bumped into a large crowd of passengers sheltering in the open space that leads to the over-bridge. Having left their homes without umbrellas they stood watching the rain pour outside. Few expected it to rain today though most would’ve known that there is no knowing when clouds would open up during Ganesh Chaturthi.

“There’s no telling until the last day (11^th) of the festival,” a fellow passenger had noted as we scrambled for cover from the rain the winds blew in through the door as the train slowed down approaching Dadar.

It was when I slowed down to pick my way through the crowd in the hallway that I saw a man holding a mike. A board seemingly materialized out of thin air in front of me. Curious passengers paused by the board to read the appeal written in hindi.

“Bihar pranth mey bhishan baad ki tabahi mey juunj rahey logon ki madad mey aapna haath aagey badaye, madad karey, madad karey”.

(Extend your hand in help to the people in the state of Bihar coping with the devastation of floods, extend help, extend help).

Behind the black board four men sat by a table with receipt books. The National Railway Mazdoor Union was organizing a collection to provide financial relief to those affected in the devastating floods the likes of which Bihar had never seen in its history. Papers are reporting over 3 million displaced by the Kosi as it breached its embankment in Nepal, changing its course to what is said to be an old course it had abandoned a century ago. Not for nothing is the Kosi known as ‘The Sorrow of Bihar’!

A member of the National Railway Worker’s Union spoke into the mike calling on people to contribute generously towards the effort. They were accepting donations of Rs. 20/-, Rs. 50/-, and Rs. 100/-.

A curious crowd gathered behind the man with the mike. After one of the four men at the table issued me a receipt for my contribution and another a flyer listing the relief efforts the Union has undertaken over the years since its inception in 1954, the man holding the mike spoke to me in chaste Marathi.

“We’re the Dadar branch of the National Railway Workers Union. At other major stations respective branches are organizing the same effort.”

Yesterday was their first day of the collection. “We’ll be holding it for five days,” he said. I could barely hear him over another announcer to the other side calling on people to donate blood. The blood donation drive has been on for several months now, unconnected with the flood relief effort. Cubicles line the wall where volunteers donate blood.

Behind the man with the mike a second board lay propped up against a support, announcing the objective of the collection drive and appealing for donations to help the flood affected.

A loudspeaker partially obscured the letters NATIONAL RAILWAY MAZDOOR UNION.

In yellow and blue chalk the following message in hindi appealed to passengers.

“Badd pidith jano ki madad karey. Bihar mein aayi bhishan badd se pidith jano ke liye madad karey. Iss satkarye mein bhag lekar unkey jaan bachaney mein aagey baddhey.”

(Help the flood affected. Help the victims of the devastating floods in Bihar. Participate in this good work and help in saving their lives.)

If you are traveling through Mumbai and were to happen upon any relief effort being organized to help the flood victims of Bihar please step up and help.

Note: In the flyer one of the members of The National Railway Mazdoor Union passed me were listed the following relief efforts the Workers Union has undertaken since its inception in 1954 –

“(1) Flood Relief in Raigad District – Rs. 1,52,000/-, (2) Flood Relief in Beed District – Rs. 50,000 in the year 1989-90, (3) Floods in Andhra Pradesh – Rs. 50,000/-, (4) To Kargil Martyrs – Rs. 1,20,000/-, (5) For rehabilitation of Latur earthquake victims – Rs. 1 lakh on 30-9-93, (6) Rehabilitation of Narmada Bachao Andolan – Rs. 10,000/- on 4-9-2001, (7) Orissa Cyclone Victims – Rs. 15 lakhs, (8) Rehabilitation of earthquake – affected of Gujrat – Rs. 15/- Lakh – 26-1-2001, (9) To help riot victims of Gujrat – Rs. 10 Lakh, (10) Assistance to Adivasi Children – Rs. 9 Lakh for Bore wells & Ambulance at Nandurbar, (11) To Tsunami Victims – Rs. 5 lakh to Prime Minister’s Relief Fund, Rs. 6 Lakh for rehabilitation of Kameshwaram Village, and (12) Towards relief & rehabilitation of 26^th July 2005 Flood Victims in Mumbai & Konkan – Rs. 50 Lakh.”

]]> http://mumbai.metblogs.com/2008/09/07/nrmu-dadar-shaka/feed/ 2 http://mumbai.metblogs.com/2008/05/21/the-archer-aims-for-the-heart/ http://mumbai.metblogs.com/2008/05/21/the-archer-aims-for-the-heart/#comments Tue, 20 May 2008 19:00:01 +0000 ideasmith http://mumbai.metblogs.com/2008/05/21/the-archer-aims-for-the-heart/

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.

All around people are standing, waving cameras, cellphones, microphones and books in the air. Thank goodness for my genes, thank goodness I’m wearing heels I murmur, doing my yoga stretch of toes, torso, neck and forehead. Small wonder then that the guy next to me jerks his head around in curiosity. And from the corner of my eye, I follow his gaze zip down to my feet. I want to yell,

Yes! Heels are the only way I’ll ever be on eye-level with you…on tiptoe! Now how about tearing your eyes away from my fabulous legs and towards the guest? We are in the presence of peerage after all.

But I refrain and try changing position instead. After a repeat (thrice!) I give up on the priorities of mankind and focus on the man on stage.

Archer speaks as well as he writes. White hair notwithstanding, he leaps nimbly from IPL to Bollywood to writing and politics. The last actually comes in only as an almost unconscious reference in conversation and is not touched upon again. When someone in the audience tries to steer him back to politics, he darts away so quickly he has the audience laughing with him.

The audience is hanging on to every word and even the seasoned TV anchors are laughing along with him. I pause in my live-tweeting to listen to an anecdote of his previous day’s meeting with kids and when he ends with,

I must say the girls are so much smarter than the boys!

…I join in the loud applause and laughter. As I sink back to terra firma I wonder how I’ll describe him in my post. Politician? Jailbird? Novelist? Firang-in-India? I settle for Charmer. And true to that description he winds off by saying that an author is someone who has access to so many minds…and is very privileged indeed. Indeed. Well-said.

Now he’s telling us that he has a dinner in 40 minutes at a place 2 hours away but that he’s not leaving the store until the books are all signed so we can all go have a cup of coffee and a chat if we like and he’ll still be there. Only, could we relax and not trample each other?

Hah! I smirk, you’ve never been to India, Lord Archer…wait and watch! Sure enough, there is pandemonium in exactly 24 seconds with the Landmark staff trying frantically to get the chairs out of the way, TV crew shifting angles, journos vying for soundbites and the junta being junta. I am too far from the stage to see his reaction but what to do, we are like wonly.

The ruckus is silenced by a loud, very loud, shrill female voice airing her disapproval and screeching,

Please, I say!! There’s no need to crowd around, I say!!! Let’s just be civilised and queue up, I say. What is this crowding and rushing and pushing, I say?!!!

The whole floor stands stock-still. Effective, I say and the staff look almost relieved.

I hang back and walk around, watching people mill about. Chattering teenagers, young couples, older couples, people in their 40s are all walking around. Everyone is toting A Prisoner of Birth.

I run through all the Archers I’ve read, in my head and wonder how good this one will be. I think wistfully of my own As the Crow Flies lying on the security guard’s shelf and debate on buying a new copy. I settle instead for guzzling juice and biscuits.

An hour later I’m still there, watching from the stage at the back, now free of TV cameras. The crowd has thinned out as well so I think it’s time to get in line for the signature. As I near the stage, the girl in front of the table practically yanks me by the collar (except I don’t have one) with a withering look. My books are then snatched out of my hand and thrust into Jeffrey Archer’s face and then thrown back at me before I have a chance to react. She certainly isn’t one of the Landmark staff. What is it darling, I smirk in my mind? The pretty-bimbette-swooning-over-you act? Or the in-thrall-of-goras syndrome? Or the I HAVE TO BE IN THE LIMELIGHT Page 3 habit? Well, whatever, my books are signed and that’s all I care.

And as I prepare to jump off the stage, Jeffrey Archer calls out to me,

Miss? Did I sign your book?

I smile back and him and nod a yes.

Back home, I open my bag. I have bought A Prison Diary as a keepsake to be able to tell myself (since I’m probably not going to have grandkids) that I saw the author in person. In my other hand is Twelve Red Herrings and I pause, smiling.

It’s the 14th July 1994. The sun is streaming in through the windows of a high-ceilinged classrooms, fans whirring loudly and drowning out the nervous chatter of a 100-odd teenagers. It’s the first day of junior college. And I don’t know a soul there.

She walks in cool and poised in black jeans and a tee-shirt so smoothly that all of us in the third row, mid-introduction gape. She glides into the empty seat in front of me and puts her bag down. Then she turns around and smiles and in a hesitant voice asks me my name. We are interrupted a minute later by the entry of the professor but I’ve just had enough to time to answer her question about my hobbies, with a monosyllable,

BOOKS.

The conversation resumes in the breaks and between lectures. Everyone is excited and nervous and wanting to know each other and ally themselves with whoever looks strongest, prettiest, smartest and coolest. I wonder why she’s paying any attention to me when there are so many others vying for her attention. After class, we walk out together and stop at her bus-stop. The others disperse. Abruptly she turns around and says,

I just know we are going to be friends. I knew it the minute you said that you loved books. I do too! There’s my bus, see you tomorrow!

14 years later, her voice travels echoes in my mind, whispering in math class, telling me about the book she finished last night and ending with,

My favorite is Never Stop on the Motorway. It’s sooo scary!

I’ve learnt by then of her weird fascination with spooky thrills. I smile and pencil in on the page after Archer’s signature,

For my best friend,

You were right. It was a good story. 14 years later, here’s the book again just so I can prove that I do listen to you. And you can prove that I agreed you were right. :-)

And long after it’s fashionable to say that I like Jeffrey Archer, I’ve finally met the man whose words have had such deep meaning on the most important friendship in my life. Thank you, Lord Archer, it has been a pleasure, a real pleasure.