Mumbai Musings

Only in Mumbai 

- You have to pay $34 for one mojito to watch a gorgeous sunset from a roof top bar- which would cost you nothing if you simply sat by Marine Drive.

- Sari salesgirls promote their product by blatantly acknowledging its a 'ditto Masaba original copy'. Err an original copy? 

- You can try 20 pieces of shoes and leave without buying a single pair after one hour, and the smile from the salesman face won't fade. He may curse you under his breath after you leave, but 'service with a smile' is all prevalent

- A rickshaw driver will waive the change with a 'Agli baar milenge phir de dena'. (Give it when we meet next). With over 300,000 rickshaws in Mumbai probability of that happening is negligible, but the sentiment is heart warming

- An awesome breakfast can be had for less than $3

- Car drivers are gracious and kind, and luxury car owners are rude and obnoxious

- Elitist attitudes gain respect and entry pretty much everywhere. Wearing designer sunglasses adds to the credibility 

- Girls in hot pants and cleavage showing singlets shop for lehenegas 

- Mobile penetration is higher than high school registration

-  Sari blouses are sexier and more revealing than evening gowns

- Eunuchs say you are 'Sonakshi Sinha' and pray you get your Salman*

-  Kids ardently dream of being Sachin Tendulkar more than being Messi

- Sunday lunches with family as revered a ritual as Friday nights out with friends

- Beach welcomes everyone, but the hotel beach front properties won't let you in unless you don't look the part. Again designer sunnies and a attitude always gains entry

- The mind dwells on stress, while the heart beats in hope 

Mumbai is a city of contradictions, an existence of paradoxes. It oozes energy and frowns at failure. Yet it accepts everyone- rich-poor, big-small, smart-dumb, black-white. You make of it whatever you are capable of.

* when it happened to me yesterday I asked him/her to pray for Aamir not Salman. When they complied I gave them Rs. 100 each, thinking its only 50 cents. Yeah, my mental math skills are atrocious. It's nearly $5, but then that's the price of my daily coffee cup. 

Mera Shehar

A poem written in Aug 1998...13 years ago about my beloved city Bombay

Woh elco ki pani puri, woh chowpatty ki chaat,
Woh Naturals ki ice cream, Wah usme thi kuch baat.

Woh tewari ki mithai, woh raste ka dosa,
Woh shivsagar ki pav bhaji aur Guru Kripa ka samosa.

Woh local train ka ‘suffer’, woh juhu beach ki hawa,
Woh chowpatty ke tange aur Joggers Park ka sama.

Woh December ki zara si sardi, woh baarishon ke mahine,
Woh garmi ki chuttiyan, jab chute te they paseene.

Woh holi ki masti, woh navratri ka garba,
Woh divali ke patakhe aur ganpati ka shor o sharaba.

Woh peak hours ki traffic, woh BEST ki rush,
Woh tadapti garmi mien, Snowmans ka ek kala khatta slush.

Woh Juhu beach ka mohol, woh samunder ki leheren,
Woh doobte suraj ka nazara, Wah uske kya kehene.

Woh Sterling ka pop corn aur Cotton World mein shopping,
Woh Fashion Street ka nazara aur Nariman Point ki buildings.

Woh cinema ke queue, woh black ki tickets,
Woh Shivaji Park ka maidan, jahan bachche practice karte hain cricket.

Itni cheezen kehene ke baad, aur kitni karoon mein badaee,
Yeh shehar hain mera apna, jiska naam hai MUMBAI !!!!!!!!

To Singapore

In the last few days I found myself in different conversations where different friends were criticizing Singapore (the usual Indian expat pain points- boring, small, constricted, boring again, ‘nothing to do’, hot, humid, boring once again) and I found my mouth opening to say something when I quickly snapped it shut and bit by tongue for added measure.

OMG!!! I was actually going to defend Singapore!!! When did that happen?? How did it happen?? And for heaven’s sake why?? The only city I ever defend is Bombay- say anything bad about Bombay and do it at the risk of brutal physical harm. So why on earth was I now going stand up for Singapore?!!

I have lived in Singapore for more than a decade now. (And no, it’s still not home. The only city that will ever have the home title will be amchi Mumbai). Every time when there is a Singapore bashing session I effortlessly chime in with the same sound bites- boring, small, blah, blah.

I did not defend Singapore on any of those occasions in the last few days, but I felt a twinge of guilt later. Because to be completely honest this city (country? Island-state?) has given me much more than I have ever given it. Phew! I didn’t think I would ever admit that to myself- let alone publicly.

Singapore has been far kinder to me, than I have ever been to it.

It accepted me from day one when I pushed back.

It welcomed me with open arms, when I only dreamt of running away.

It smiled. I frowned.

It laughed for me (and not at me). And I cried.

It tendered to my wounds. I did not let them heal.

It cared. I simply couldn’t give a shit.

So today I would like to say my thanks to Singapore. Thanks most for all for your patience. For the calm. For the peace. For the courage.

Thanks for giving me the chance to meet people who I would have never met had I been in Bombay. Thanks for making some of these people my closest (and most wonderful) friends.

Thanks for making it so easy for me to have all the things I love so close to me. (For the uninformed, my rule of a good to city to live in is simple- idli-dosa and Hindi movies have to available within a 10 minute cab distance and should not cost a small fortune).

So thank you Singapore! And I will try and be a better friend to you. (I still cannot cause bodily harm to people who criticize you. There would just be way too many of them!) But I will try to show them what you are all about.

Having said that, people define cities by their own experiences in it. So Singapore, I can’t change people’s experiences about you. I can only say that my experiences have been nothing short of delightful. And I can hope you will give others who come here such lovely experiences too. And the people who leave, beautiful memories to remember you by.

If Bombay is the city that loves, Singapore is a city that accepts. And at this time, I need unconditional acceptance more than anything else. So thank you Singapore!

And here are my favorite places in Singapore:

• Favorite place (by far)- Tanjong Rhu Bay

• South Indian food- Murugans (idli, butter dosa and filter coffee are to die for)

• North Indian ‘Moghlai’ food- Shahi Maharani, Raffles City

• Mall- Takashimaya, Raffles City, Vivo City

• Coffee place- Spinellis, Heeren

• Brunch- P.S. Café Dempsey

• Drinks- Tapas Tree, Clarke Quay

• Desserts- P.S. Café again

• Bread- Cedele

Shit! These are all eating places. There really are limited things to do in Singapore! Or its just me, as the foodie that I am, my fav places in Bombay would be eating/drinking ones too. Moving on….

• Outdoor place- East Coast Park (where there is NO MacDonalds or KFC)

• Just for walks- Tanjong Rhu Bay (again) and Orchard Road (for retail therapy)

• Saving the best for the last: My balcony

So here’s signing off and wishing my very best to Singapore (I hope the IRs work out for you. Pls consider removing the S$100 casino entry fee for PRs)

1 April 2010

(Not an April Fools Day Joke)

An Indian First!

Bal Thackeray recently made a statement about Sachin Tendulkar "You became run out in the pitch of Marathi minds" as Sachin had said that he was "an India first and a Marathi after".

Cut to many years ago at a Diwali party in Singapore (my very early years in the country), a British man was talking to a group of Indians about the festival and its significance. He also mentioned that Diwali was probably the biggest Indian festival. It was a rhetoric question- not a question at all- but it got a varied range of responses. “Actually it’s a Hindu festival, we Parsis don’t celebrate it”. “In East India where I come from, Durga Puja is much bigger”. SERIOUSLY!!!

Foreigners have difficulty grasping the concept of India and we choose to complicate it further by referring to ourselves as Gujuratis, Sindhis, Parsis, Christians, Bengalis…Who outside India gives a flying F%^$!

And frankly why should people in India care too? Your motherland rules and everything else come after. We are Indians FIRST! Why is that so difficult to comprehend?!

Secondly your origins should be attributed to your city- the city you grew up in, where you studied, which gave you your childhood school memories (and best friends for life), your “first time” teen years and perhaps even your career and life partner. It does not matter which religion you are, which caste you belong to, the city you grew you up in makes up a big part of who you are. You could be a Kashmiri who has been bought up in Gujarat or a Gujrati who has lived all his life in Chennai.

Then in the scheme of things enters your religion- practicing or not practicing- your religion is a key aspect of your values and beliefs system. I may go to the temple or gurudwara once a month and on special occasions (Diwali, birthdays), but that does not make me an less religious than a Muslim who prays 5 times a day and a Christian who goes for Sunday mass every week.

And FINALLY, LAST, ALL THE WAY DOWN, RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM (you get the drift) is your caste- Maloo, Bengali, Tulu, Sindhi, Punju, etc etc etc. It’s the least important part of who you are and should be.

We keep falling in the trap laid by the British Raj that was conceived to rule over us- “Divide and Rule”. It kept them in power for very many years.

Let’s break from those shackles. Isn’t it time enough?

So I am an Indian first, a Bombayite (or Mumbaikar with due respect to Balasaheb) next, a Hindu after and Sindhi last. What about you?

Bombay- My city: Now and Then

A poem written by Seema on 10 Dec 2008
(post terrorist attacks on her city Bombay)

Mera Shehar Mujhe Lauta Do…
Nahin saha jata hai yeh ab,
Nahin dekha jata hai yeh sab,
Mera shehar mera nahin raha,
Mere aasoon us ke liye bahein.

Woh ek din tha, jab waqt thama,
Jab saansein rooki,
Jab ek hakeeqat bani,
Jo ek sadmein se thi sangeen.

Jab sapnay tootein,
Jab jaane looti,
Jab dehshat faili,
Jab zakham khule.

Jab aakhen hui num,
Jab dil mein they gum,
Jab jaan thi baaki,
Pur uski ahmiyat thi kum.

Aasoon ruk ne sakein,
Soch ho gayi baawli,
Uthe sau sawaal,
Pur jawaab they khali.

Ab kya? Ab kya? Ab kya?
Is ke aage hoga kya?

Hum phir badenge?
Hum phir sahenge?
Hum phir hasenge?
Aur yeh kahenge…
“Jaane do, rehne do?
“Bhool jaao, aage bado?”

Yeh ab nahin hai mumkin,
Is baar bahut tadap hai shaamil,
Ab shensheelta ki nahin hai baari,
Ab uthani hai awaaz hamari.

“NAHIN badenge”,
“NAHIN sahenge”,
“NAHIN hasenge”,
Aur yeh kahenge…

“Jaago! Kuch karo!”
“Sar utha ke jeeyo,
Yaan is hi tarah marte raho”.

Mera shehar mujhe lauta do,
Mera vishwaas mujhe dila do,
Tootne na do mere hoslein,
Buland karo phir se mere sapnay.

Mera shehar mujhe lauta do…
Mera shehar mujhe lauta do….

______________________________________________________________

A poem written by Seema on her city Bombay 10 years ago
(Aug 1998)

Mera shehar

Woh elco ki pani puri, woh chowpatty ki chaat,
Woh Naturals ki ice cream, Wah usme thi kuch baat.

Woh tewari ki mithai, woh raste ka dosa,
Woh shivsagar ki pav bhaji aur Guru Kripa ka samosa.

Woh local train ka ‘suffer’, woh juhu beach ki hawa,
Woh chowpatty ke tange aur joggers park ka sama.

Woh december ki zara si sardi, woh baarishon ke mahine,
Woh garmi ki chuttiyan, jab chute te they paseene.

Woh holi ki masti, woh navratri ka garba,
Woh divali ke patakhe aur ganpati ka shor o sharaba.

Woh peak hours ki traffic, woh BEST ki rush,
Woh tadapti garmi mien, Snowmans ka ek kala khatta slush.

Woh Juhu beach ka mohol, woh samunder ki leheren,
Woh doobte suraj ka nazara, Wah uske kya kehene.

Woh Sterling ka pop corn aur Cotton World mein shopping,
Woh Fashion Street ka nazara aur Nariman Point ki buildings.

Woh cinema ke queue, woh black ki tickets,
Woh Shivaji Park ka maidan, jahan bachche practice karte hain cricket.

Itni cheezen kehene ke baad, aur kitni karoon mein badaee,
Yeh shehar hain mera apna, jiska naam hai MUMBAI !!!!!!!!