Southern Escapade- Pondicherry

Day 1 – Friday December 15, 2006

Well the day began at an early hour as i needed to be on time for the wedding ceremony of my best friend in Chennai. The thumping music of karnatic Shenani along with the fascinating rituals and the scrumptious breakfast( called Tiffin) served on a banana leaf along with the typical south Indian coffee managed to keep my spirits lighted.

Breakfast or Snack is called Tiffin in South India.The breakfast consisted of pongal, dosa, mendu vada and idli with onion chutney, sambhar and mulga poodi.
Once i finished with the wedding moved to the hotel and did some enquiry about the bus stand and places to stay. I spoke to someone in Pondicherry who sort of confirmed a reservation for me for 500 bucks but on this trip i have just been having a bad luck with hotel reservations as later on when I reach Pondicherry I find out there is no reservation.

Anyways i get to the Chennai Mylamore( am not sure of spelling) Bus station. The Bus station looks like an airport. It is the largest bus station in Asia. They accept credit cards for booking tickets. Anyways i get into my local ST bus at about 5pm, and buy my ticket for 105 rupees to Pondicherry.

For first hour or so we are still getting out of the city, i am not too impressed by the way the city is placed, small roads, traffic and overcrowded. As we come to Beach way, the view is outstanding, however not for too long as it gets dark soon, it would be fun to ride through this road in daylight. On the seat next to me is seated a sleepy mother with a sleepy kid.

At about 830pm I reach Pondicherry and haggle with the rick guy for a price to go to Beach area where my hotel is. The Hotel Park Guest house which i am told a reservation is made for me says there isn’t any. Anyways am glad i didn’t stay there as they have deadline of 10:30p.m.

So I walk around through 3-4 hotels but all of them are too expensive. Finally i see this place Duma guest house which is sweet little house owned by some French family. Bala the owner & manager comes and shows me the room, i negotiate the price and finally settle in. He recommends me to check out Le Club a fancy French restaurant across the street although a little expensive. Its a nice place with good ambience, serving authentic French food and Vietnamese. I liked the salad. After dinner, I go looking for a cybercafe

Walking through the streets around 10 is not very exciting. As the place is dead. But people are helpful, one guy directs me to coffe.com which is supposedly a coffee and net browsing place and open 24 hours. The way to this place is through a n array of narrow streets I pass through a really nice Masjid and some lovely houses. I am looking forward to exploring the places around tommorrow
Bon Jor

Day 1 update- Just when i thought this was the end of an un eventful day for me, i didnt know i had something more in store for me. After posting my post on the blog, i chatted with the family who runs the place and casually mentioned about a friend an elderly lady who i had meet in Chennai that morning. It so happened that the family also knew my elderly friend and by chance her best friends son was also sitting there. As soon as my excitement settled down i decided to walk to my hotel. A new place, no idea of roads, no people to give directions i definately lost my way after walking a couple of kms and approached the traffic police station to ask for directions.
When one of the helpful personnel’s there told me that I had walked in opposite direction and my hotel is 2 kms away, i gave the look of a helpless girl who didn’t know how to go and would not even find a cycle or auto to get home. So the kind police inspector dropped me to my destination. When i got to my hotel, Dumas guest house, i realized i was the only guest living in that big Mansion. Chances of meeting a ghost were plenty but i guess I was too tired and fell asleep


Day 2 Saturday, December 16,2006

I woke up at about 7am and realized that the place am staying was not a real hotel but a guest house, so no drinking water and no chai. So i walked around the streets looking for coffee and chai. The tea stall was buzzing with activity, idlis being made, vadas being fried but there was time for tea or coffee as he was waiting for milk. After my previous night experience first thing i wanted was a cycle. I asked the tea stall vendor for a cycle hire shop. He directed me to one. I hired my cycle for 30rs a day. I told him i wanted it for 2 days. For 50 bucks i had the Lady bird ms india cycle with a nice basket in the front to keep my bags. As I pedaled through the streets i felt like i had wings with my cycle. I cycled through the bazaar looking for a nice cafe. I passed through the busy street but could hardly find anything.

On this busy street the i meet this french guy, Francis on his cycle. Francis was from France and he had a high-tech cycle with gears. He had cycled from Bombay to Pondicherry clicking ver 5,000 pictures. It took him 2 months to get here. He directed me to a place called Daily bread .

Daily Bread is a nice air conditioned bakery restaurant serves excellent coffee and croissants and is very reasonable Rs10(coffe) and Rs 8 (crosissant). I read some local news and then ride to Aurobindo Asharam to check out what its all about. On my way I pass through my company`s office although its closed at its just 9am
When i reach my guest house, i meet Bala the guy who owns the guest house. He tells me that his family has been living here for 100 years now. The house he lives is over 200years old. I invite myself to see his house when he is free. The guest house has some company as some tourists rent the rooms upstairs.

After a bath, i get on my Dhanno the cycle and go to the Pondicherry museum in quest of finding the history of this place. Unfortunately the Musuem has not much history as such except some interesting vehicles that were used by the French and Governor Dupliex house stuff. I visit the library next door, after searching for over an hour in the history section i don’t even find one book, but i find this old man who pretends to be helping me and gives me a book in Malayalam or Tamil. Finally some one directs me to the other side of the library. After searching again i can hardly find anything. I am so upset, how can they have a library without a single book on the French rule or history of Pondicherry, i decide i need to go to goggle immediately. Luckily i find a reference- fact book on Pondicherry.

Pondicherry or Pudichary means the new settlement. Originally discovered by French, was captured by British for a short time but was given back to them by some treaty. Remained a independent French colony till 1954 or 58 post which the colony handed over the powers to India.

Back on my cycle, something seems to be wrong with the handle and the brakes,so i go back to the cycle shop, and this time i am given sturdy cyle (Bhaiya cycle as a friend of mine would call it) with heavy stand. I am enjoying cycling thorough the streets, the Rui Rollaind and Rui Suffrus etc passing through the lovely colonial homes and it so peaceful. I feel like am in some different era

All the cycling has got me tired its about 2pm i go to Kerala Ayurveda and get myself a foot massage. After this at about 3pm i begin my journey to Auroville which is about 14 km away. The ride initially is nice when i am crossing through sea area. The Sea is beautiful nice and blue. But driving through the market and ECR is tough. I have to be so careful. People driving on the wrong side, cycles or bikes not honking when they are behind or honking when they are not even close by. I wish my cycle has a mirror. Finally i reach Auroville where i see another Daily bread cafe. i walk in and enquire about the ashram. The guy advises me not to take my cyle there as it is a very long drive through hills and would be dangerous while coming back. I haggle with a rick guy and for 160 bucks take a round trip.

Auroville wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities. The purpose of Auroville is to realise human unity.

Auroville is a very nice and green, it would be a nice place to stay and do some volunatary work. Unfortunately I am a little late so I cant get to see the Matra Mandir the huge gold globe from inside as the tickets for that are sold only till 4pm. The visitor center is nice having a lot of interesting things to shop. I walk from the visitor center to the Matru Mandir in hope of getting a opportunity to get inside. When I reach Matru Mandir which about a 15 min walk from the visitor center the guard tells me I cant go in. Its already getting dark and I also want to see the auroville beach, so I do not wish to waste any more time walking.

I try to get a lift for this 15 min ride. A wave out to a girl riding a kinetic and take a lift from her. She tells me that she lives in Pondicherry but works as an Engineeer in Auroville. She thinks am a little a crazy to cycle upto Pondicherry from Auroville. The Rickshaw guy is informative on our way back he shows me the guest houses where people stay and the Solar Kitchen where food is cooked for all the guests. I request him to take me to the beach as it is highly recommended by one of my friends.

Auroville beach is one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. In the twilight of the evening it looked so beautiful with the coconut trees, blue water, the breeze, I just didn’t want to leave but the thought of riding the cycle back in dark coaxed me to leave soon.

Cycling back to Pondicherry was tough. Firstly the roads are not well lit, Cyclists and motorists would come from any direction, riding through narrow roads and busy streets was tough. Also when motorists flashed their car lights from opposite direction it was difficult to see ahead. I wish my cycle had gears, rare view mirror and headlights.

Finally when I reach Pondicherry I decide that its time to treat my self to a good meal at a nice restaurant. So I head to the Le- Orient which is a very classy French colonical hotel with a courtyard restaurant. It is a heritage property owned by the Nimrana group of hotels. The courtyard restaurant looked so beautiful , lit with candels and a band playing some good music. Unfortunately they had a set menu consisting of all the four courses for 350 bucks but all the items were non vegetarian and they couldn’t replace it with veg dishes.

So I go to another restaurant across the street on the rooftop called Rendevous . I am quite tired getting off and on the bike and parking it. Parking the cycle is a little bit of a problem as it has heavy stand. This is where I get a valet to park my cyle. I am so thrilled by this, actually the watchman there saw me struggling with the parking so he offered to park it and even the lock the cycle for me.
Rendevous restaurant is typical rooftop restaurant with cane furniture . The food options are plenty from sandwiches, Italian, Indian. I just settle for a veg sizzler. After my valet gets my cycle for me I decide to go to coffe.com to write about today and have some good coffee, although I am very tired.

At coffe.com the computer are occupied so I just sit down with my lonely planet on a table and chit chat with Daisy the girl who runs the place. Kevin and Silkh sitting on the next table borrow my Lonely Planet and then we start chatting with each other.

Kevin is from UK and he used to work for an NGO before he quit his job to come here 3 weeks ago. Silkh is a photographer and she is from Germany, she has come to Kolkata on a project and after the project was over she came to Auroville. Both of them tell me that they are very bored in Auroville as everything closes there by 830 and the other people living in their community don’t interact too much so they come here in the evenings. I recommend them Andaman & Nicobar Ilands and Mahabaliopuram to explore around.

We talk about everything from the culture differences, to the good food places in Pondicherry. Suddenly Kevin happens to tell me about a Organic restaurant he used to run in one of the suburbs of France in the countryside. We start talking and explore the idea of starting a restaurant in Pondicherry . We discuss everything from the profile of customers, cost of setting up a place etc

Its about 1130p.m and the three of us wonder if we could go to a bar which would open in Pondicherry. Daisy at coffe.com tells us chances were nil but we could still try. We walk through the narrow quiet streets to the waterfront, where the restaurants and bars are shut. In desperation we also visit a local bar which is also closed.Finally we settle down for italino icecream which is the only thing available at that hour. The two of them look for a rickshaw to get them to Auroville, the normal bargaining happens. Since its almost the rickshaw guy is asking for a bomb,i recommend them the idea of going to a police station and asking them to drop them since they have lost the way.
At the corner we meet another french gentelmen who is parking his car to enter his neat house. He tells us that he is from Paris and he is staying here with his family doing some research for the french institute. His research is on the water problems of south india. The three of us wonder why would a French company want to research on the water problems in India, till we conclude that it could be coz a French water pump company maybe funding the research. Finally we find a rick and the two of them head back to Auroville and i settle in to my little house

Day 3 Sunday,December 17,2006

After a peaceful sleep I wake up at about 9 am and set out to go to the Sacred Heart Church . Loads of people buzzing in and out of Sunday Mass. The church is beautiful. After that I cycle towards the French cemetery. I am told that the French cemetery is very interesting as all the grave yards have nice facades build over it. After asking a couple of people who cant understand what am looking for I reach the French cemetery.

At the French cemetery there are 3 women busy working. They say something to me in Tamil which I cannot understand. But I guess when I remove my camera she understands I am here to click pictures of the facades, thus she directs me from one interesting façade to the other. Some of them have writing in tamil, whereas some have it in English and French. Some of facades on the tombs are like little chapels.

Then I cycle to my favourite breakfast place Daily Bread and try out some Brio che although am not to impressed by it and settle in for some coffee and crossoint . Outside I end up chatting with a driver of one of the tourist vehicle an ambassador to ask him for directions to the beach. He thinks I have come from Kolkata from some strange reason .

Anyways its already 11:00, and I get the feeling that the beach is too far so I decide to just make a visit to the cybercafe, return my cycle to hire shop and check out the liquors shop. I do not find anything interesting to buy at the liquor shop so I walk back to my little house, clear my dues with Bala and get on a rick to go to Bus stand. I am going to a friends house to spend the night in Chennai. She stays at Kotivakam.

All the buses I enter in to the drivers are so rude, just as I utter the word Kotivakam they ask me to get down. Finally I get into one bus. The ride on the East Coast road is something I am really looking forward . Stangely the ticket is 55 rupees instead of the 105 rupees I paid on my way from Chennai to Pondicherry.

The ride on ECR road is out of the world, the fields the lovely blue beaches, sea. I would just love to live here by the ocean.

Finally I reach Kotivakam and locate my friends house. She has her nieces over two very cute little girls. Children are so much fun. With the girls we visit the Velankani Shrine at Bassinagar and move to the beach next to it which is so crowded. The girls enjoy themselves with a ride on the horse and the cartwheels

We go for dinner at nice Italian restaurant called Bala Chaio on Kotivakam beach. The restaurant is on a nice huge bunglow with a huge courtyard. The tables are laid out in the backyard. The place is run by an Italian lady and serves some good authentic Italian food although it’s a little expensive even compared to Bombay standards

A trip to tamil land can never end without a Tamil movie. So myself and my friend go to this sort of local theatre. The show is at 945p.m but we are almost there 45 mins prior to the show. We buy are tickets for 35 bucks and wait for the gates to open

In the theatre they have no national anthem practice, slowly slowly people start walking in. The theatre is full inspite of being a Sunday night and some people are actually standing and watching the movie in the balcony.

The name of the movie is E means fly. The actor is Jeeva and actress is Sadaah. The movie has an interesting plot it is based on how these American companies are sending their medicines to be tested on Indian.
The hero jeeva lives in a chawl does a little bit of hera pheri and a doctor who is pioneering this scam calls him and gives him a job to rob a dead body from the morgue. In the middle of this the actress Sadaah a dancer in a restaurant shifts with her family next door to Jeeva. Jeeva helps her to set up the house stealing some stuff. After about half and hour we decide to leave as the whole episode of robbing the dead body from the morgue was getting a little creepy. The atmosphere smelled of country liquor and whistles on the action scenes of the actor. I had a early morning flight the next day so we decided to leave.
This was the end of my refreshing Southern escapade

Ride to Glory

6 bikes, a rollercoaster ride through the scenic waterfronts of Bombay, & 140 minutes of pedaling action, lead us to the Gateway of India

The idea
It all began on a Wednesday evening on my way back home from work when one of my friend called me asking me to make some interesting Sunday plan. After all the conventional options he himself, suggested the idea of cycling in the city. Cycle rides have always fascinated me, infact I was amazed by the special cycle paths in parks in US, and My friend, let me call him the Event manager and he actually is one by profession, although he organizes events which can change peoples life sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad(decoration business). So our organsier connects the other two friends on a conference call.
Where should we ride? Where will the bicycles come from? Who else will join us ? Should we start bicycling at night? What about 4am? Will any one wake up on a Sunday morning ?
After a lot of discussion we decided that we shall bicycle from Carter road, Bandra to Gateway of India exploring all the waterfronts on the way on Sunday morning. Our organizer ensured he would arrange for the bikes and we agreed that if no one else comes, the three of us will definitely go on this expedition. Honestly I did not expect any one to come as I know of very few people who would like to give up their Sunday sleep for a crazy thing like this. Nevertheless we flooded inboxes with email and sms, but got just best wishes as responses. Three of our organizer, the Event Managers friends agreed to join us

Getting the cycles
My friend, the Event manager had a big task ahead of arranging those cycle.17 pages of Google search, help line searches and cycle dealers contacts all proved futile in arranging the cycles on hire. Cycles on hire were available in Bandra but they were the Bhaiya cycles which would have been difficult to ride. Our Event manager finally got hold of someone in Dongri who took him to a hire shop located in a patli gali ( narrow lane ) of Bori Mohala. For 75 rupees each we had the cycles. This is where the resources of our event manager came as good help. He loaded those cycles in his tempo and transported them to his home in Bandra. I think our Event Manager friend definitely deserves a shabashi for his resourcefulness


Morning alarms
My biggest fear was that I would land up in Bandra at 5am just to find out that the other bikers are still sleeping. So from the previous night I kept reminding the computer geek friend who stays in the same building to wake up our Event Manager friend, and if he doesn’t wake up then to bang his door. In turn I kept reminding the Event Manager friend to remind the CA friend and his brothers to be on time

The journey
With the thought of mistakenly snoozing the alarm haunting me, I could hardly sleep so after completing my morning chores I left home at 4.30a.m I called the other people just to ensure they would be awake. It was dark but still seemed a little crowded, with people waiting at the ST bus stands, elder women rushing to the temple, people happily sleeping on the road, jain monks , newspaper suppliers unwrapping the papers, doodhwalas rushing to complete their deliveries.


Kickstart
At 5:15a.m when I reached our Event Managers building compound in Bandra. It was in action as the others were busy removing the bikes from the garage. We pedaled through the dark streets of Bandra to Mahim causeway where we halted to debate on the route we would take. It was too dark yet to have a look at the scenic sea. I demanded rather commanded we go through Shivaji and other six unfortunately had no choice but just agree.
As we cycled through Shivaji Park and moving to Worli Sea face I looked at the other cycle riders that we passed by and thought we were hardly any different from the doodhwalas and bhaiyas who use the cycle to go around. At Worli Sea face we were surprised to see so many people walking we also saw a few professional bikers. It was still a little dark for us to get a good view of the sea. Moving further near the race course we got to see the first ray of Sunlight a beautiful orange twilight on our left. Haji Ali at Mahalaxmi was still waking up to the morning. It was nice to ride through Tardeo, and Nana chowk and watch the old buildings of Wilson college.
The sun was almost out but hold on when we reached chowpatty I was just lost seeing the beauty of the sea which was still wrapped in its Sunday slumber with a thin line of fog. The ride from chowpatty to Nariman point was magical, although it could have proved dangerous as I was hardly looking in the front and looking at the sea, but thanks to the other bikers vision behind I managed.
In just a few minutes we were at our destination Gateway of India. The sun was waiting for us. After taking a short break and doing the touristy stuff of taking pictures we moved to our final destination in Dongri where we had to drop the cycles.

Riding through fort
I have always been very fond of walking through the bylanes in fort area and watching the buildings around. So we took the back road to go to Dongri passing through, Asiatic Libarary, RBI, Horniman circle and when I looked at the Marshal & sons building I couldn’t help but think of Dadaji and sofas. Then we passed through the Dockyard area which really saddened me. I looked at those Slums filled with people just surviving. I looked at those children for whom the busy street was playground and could also turn into death ground. But these children were happily playing their little games devoid of the dangers that may come their way. Finally we reach Dongri at our Event Managers office and wake ups his oversmart office peon.
The peon runs to get anda bhurji, inspite of me telling him not to go as I want to go to the restaurant and eat and not eat in the naphthalene smelling office of our Event Manager. By now I guess other six bikers have had enough of my bullying and they are not ready to take it any more and thus they also don’t join me to Café Naaz. At the counter I ask the elderly uncle to give me brun pav with double maska and one chai without sugar. He tells me Beti Betho. I look around to find some interesting characters around, At the adjoing table I see 3 men draped in a pathani and sporting the red ghamcha, to me they could be anyone from a normal trader to a terrorist, or maybe even a spy. I take my parcel and move to the office next door to join the others. Later we all walk to Sandhurst road station and take our train home
All in all it was nice adventure ride. I think maybe I should probably buy a bike and ride to places over a weekend. Next bike trip could be to Manori.
Any takers ?

The Special cracker... A short story

Ting Tong.Ting Tong Pattu, presses her fingers excitedly on her doorbell. Reva ben the domestic help of the household opens the door; Pattu flings her bag on the sofa, removes, rather dumps her shoes in the shoe rack and zooms in, to the kitchen where her mother is busy stacking some washed crockery a part of her Diwali cleaning.

‘ Yahoooooooooo, Mummy, exams are over, no more padhai for one month'.
‘Yes beta, Ave tamera Ghodha chutha.’ She remarks in Gujrati (A Gujrati proverb implying the horses are free from their stable to run)

‘Mummy, give me money, we are going to Goldcoin, the fancy ice-cream parlour for our exam over celebrations’.
Pattu and her schoolmates had a ritual to celebrate the end of their exams over an ice-cream.

Ok beta, but how was your paper? Paper was ok. So are you going to be first in class?
No, Mummy, how can I come first, there are many more smarter girls in the fourth grade.

As the days pass by Pattu`s excitement of Diwali vacation slowly fizzles out just like the dough fizzling out in circles from the sancho into the frying pan to form chakris which her mother is busy preparing. Pattu`s father who had just come out of an elephant bath and is a total foodie, grabs a bite of the chakri.
‘Hmm, its not soft enough, you haven’t mixed the dough well. When you do the next lot call me, ill show you a better method.’

Papa I am really bored of my vacation, I have nothing to do. This was a very common line repeated by Pattu every vacation.

Ok, Lets do some Rangoli, her father remarks as he gulps down another glass of water.

Rangoli session was something Pattu, always looked forward to. It was like an event for her to see her Papa paint and stroke design after design. The peacock was his favourite caricature. Pattu was not really an artist, but her Dad allowed her to fill in the colours, for which she often made a mess, but Papa always obliged. As he stroked the brushes to dish out design after design, Pattu kept pestering her Dad with the weirdest of questions that a 10 year old would have.

Papa when will go on a holiday? Papa were you a artist like MF Hussain? Papa how many prizes did you win when you were fourth standard? Papa why can I not draw like you? The list would be endless

Papa this year, Dadaji is in America so we will not have to hide the firecrackers. When are you getting the firecrackers? Bubli( a neighbour & friend) and her brothers sisters already started bursting crackers yesterday. When will you get firecrackers for me?

Beta, this year I have a better idea of firecrackers, how about bursting some special crackers? Let me finish this Rangoli and tell you about it. After finishing the Rangoli, he takes a seat on the big fat sofa, the sofa is over 30 years. It’s a standing trophy of the prosperity that the family has achieved over the years. It’s the same sofa, where Pattu`s Dadaji was interviewed by Marshall & sons and that job at that time had saved his six member family from stepping on the line of poverty.

Papa,what is this special cracker?

Pattu tell me one thing, when you burn those crackers the happiness that you get is so momentary, it just dies in a matter of few seconds. This Diwali, why don’t you bring happiness and joy in the lives of those children who can probably not buy any crackers and who will probably not even have enough sweets like you.
Although Pattu, was quite a brat being the only child and having been pampered to the brim, strangely she had a good heart and was quite a giving child.

The legacy of this special firecrackers began, as Pattu and her dad walked into the crowded Dadar market, bought some 200 steel glasses, chocolates, paper whistles and cellophane paper. Back home. Pattu was excited with the job of filling those steel glasses with sweets and tying cellophane paper on the glass

The next morning, the family zoomed on the Mumbai- Goa highway and almost 110km later their car halted at a school in a sleepy hamlet in Konkan. Pattu, had never really seen a village in her life, and was amazed to see mud houses, men & women scantily dressed & the starring eyes. The schoolmaster rang the bell as a sign of calling all the children in the school ground.

After a series of sounds of thumping feet’s, screams and laughter, children in all shapes and sizes gathered outside the school. Some of them barely had any clothes on them, but what they all had was a smile on their face, and the curiosity to find out what was going to happen here, they looked at the huge tall sahib, who had his fancy camera pouch tied around his waist, looking more like a gun. They had seen this sahib before but they looked in amazement at the girl with the hair cut of a boy, and the sethani wrapped in a bright yellow and red saree.

The schoolmaster announced, “Sagle ek line madhe ubhe rahava” ( Stand in one line). As the children left the school compound they flinged the cellophane paper in the air,blew the paper whistles and gulped the chocolates in to their hungry mouths. The atmosphere was full of noise and celebration and as Pattu looked at them, she felt so happy and satisfied; this special cracker had given her even more joy then any other firecracker she had ever burst. And after that day she never lit even a single firecracker, the only thing that she wanted to light was the special cracker. As the sparks it created were magical

Navratri Ki Yaddein

It’s the long weekend and all the catching up on sleep during the day has made me like an Owl in the night, thus am compelled to do nothing but flip TV channels. As usual there is nothing interesting on televison but I happen to stop by on a channel playing a rerun of that nights Falguni Pathaks Dandiya ras. Although the Navratri this year has not managed to generate any interest in me, but as I listen to “Jode re Jodar”, & ‘Rangalo’ two of my favourite garba songs, I cant help but recollect all those wonderful memories of Navratri

Cousins coming to stayover,Going to Juhu beach, Juice center at Khar for a after Navratri snack, dressing up in the special Chania Cholis that Dadi would stich for me, almost winning the best dressed kid every year, listening to Papa sing at the Navratri gatherings, Participating in Papa`s relentless efforts of teaching me the steps year on year, Standing at my building balcony to watch all the action especially on days I couldn’t go, as I would have an exam the next morning, Sometimes visiting different Navratri venues. It was a different world altogehther

Last year I happened to visit the most popular Dandiya – Sankalp.

Flashback Dandiya 05
The true Dandiya queen- Falguni Pathak`s voice definately has the power to get one`s foot tapping. As i stood, there reflecting at the thousands of people, present in that ground, some watching just enjoying the music, some trying their first hand on the garba and some simply dancing to kill .I wondered what is it about,this festival that drives people from all communities to come and enjoy the thrills of Navratri ? Is it all about advertising and the hype? Is it about particpating in ones festival ? A youngsters excuse to go to a parents authorised disc or is it simply the festive spirit. I still remember, as a kid i always looked forward to Navratri, which happend in our buildings. There were no loudspeakers, but a simple dholwala and people would sing. I was never to good at the dandiya or garba, so i dont know whether it was the drive to learn it or was my fathers singing at these Navratris that drived me to not miss even a single day of the Navratri in the building. As time passed by the small celebrations in our buildings came to an end and it went on to the big disco dandiyas that happened, thus me taking a seat in front of my television screen and flipping channels to watch the diffrent dandiya`s. But what i really love about Navratri, is that it brings out the folk culture of Gujrat, Infact some day i would like to go and watch Navratri in Ahmedabad or Baroda. i have heard, the celebrations there have still kept the traditional elements intact

The Garba Rass for the year is over, but if you still want to give your hands a shot with Garba and Dandiya- Sharadpunam should be a day to watch out

Mumbai by night- Savouring the festivities of Ramzan

“Oh meri zohare zafi tuje malum nahi” This retro Hindi number plays from one of the blaring Dandiya pandals near the Police gymkhana at Marine drive as we walk towards the Islam gymkhana from the calm waves of Marine drive to begin our night food trail.
The atmosphere was festive as girls and boys dressed up in their Navratri outfits passed by, in an open ground we saw a group of men dancing and singing something which seemed like Nepali, maybe it was the Gurkhas dancing to their cultural tunes. We meet our guide and host for the evening who is busy finishing a strawberry gola outside the Malai Golawala with his toli of friends. Since all of them were dressed in their traditional outfits the kurta and the customary topi for a moment, I am little baffled and wonder if it’s the same people I am supposed to be meeting, to add to it our guide for the night, who is also a very good friend of mine has a uncanny resemblance to Osama Bin and my wandering mind happens to think if he is really related to you know who.

The Malai golawala stall is crowded with people surrounded around him with requests for the strawberry, chocolate malai gola. Malai gola is basically gola dipped in milk instead of the sherbet gola which is commonly available everywhere. The background is full of Disco Dandiya music, cars passing by on the main road and of course the view of Mumbais skyline and the Queens necklace.

Finally after every one has had enough of the malai gola we move towards the Minara Masjid at Mohammed ali road. As we arrive at the road under the JJ flyover there seems to be total chaos there, jammed roads with cars, buses, people walking by, it is nice to see Mumbai in so much action even in the middle of the night. As we wait at the corner of Minara masjid lane I cannot control my excitement seeing the dozens of chappal stalls, although I don’t want to buy any chappals I cant stop myself from buying the cutest little kid chappals for my niece.

Amongst all that crowd, I happen to notice the “Khilona ka pheriwala” the kind of hawker who is usually seen outside marriage halls. Suddenly I go back to those days when I would nag my parents to buy me something from that stall, when I take a close look at the stall, I wonder how toys have changed from times, the simple bow and arrows, puppets, tea sets are replaced by Barbie mobile phones, Ipod, play grids.

We walk in the tiny by lane of Minara masjid.The atmosphere is so charged, with not even a inch of place to move. The tiny bylane is full of food shops, men busy cutting and stirring food in huge vessels, bikes trying to find their way out. Our guide tells us that the way to begin the meal is to have zabban soup.From this tiny bylane we cut across to another tiny bylane again full of food shops and tables layed out for guests to sit. We are sitting at Bade Miya.it’s the only place you get to eat zabban soup.(goat tongue). Its more of a starters kind of place. Bheja fry, kaleja fry all that is available here. I like the way one of the waiters tell the cook ( Yeh Bhai ka bheja de do). I am a vegetarian so obviously I can’t eat anything here, so I want to drink some chai. The waiter screams out to the owner of Café Noorani just opposite where chai is being made in a gallon. I scream back to the owner giving him my instructions on the tea. Next to Café Noorani is a barber shop. The barber seems to be doing brisk business even at this hour. My chai arrives in a nice thick glass cup, and is amazing.

As we move towards the dinner place(Janta Hotel) I cant help but stop at the sweet shops to see the action. The smell of pure ghee, the malpuas being dipped in a sea of ghee and the speed with, which the workers wrap them putting a spray of malai on it, is simply amazing.

It is very hot outside, thus its definitely a relief to go to the AC section of Janta Hotel, although there is place only for 4 ppl, while we are 8. The waiter who I later learn to call chcha and not chacha tell us the other table will clear in a few minutes. to which the my group mates joke over the guests sitting on that table “ Yeh to Aadhi jaan hai, kuch kha nahi payenge” on the context that they would finish soon.

Finally we get our table and order the specialty which is bater, tittar, chicken 65. I ask chaccha what veg stuff I could get. He says “ Aapa veg main to sirf roti or dal milegi,woh bhi bajoo se mangani padegi”. I like being call Aapa, when I enquire what it means, I find out it means, ‘Sister’ and then I think of Khala , with the obvious connection about a character from recently read book, Sacred Games where the Khala is Sulemain Asa right hand, taking care of his operations in Mumbai

As we sit across the table, my groupmates joke about each other. One of them who is really hungry and supposedly a very hot tempered guy is being provoked by all types of comments, another one who is a married and is going for Omra in a couple of days(which means going to Haj, during the non Haj season) seems to be in a hurry, as he has forgotten his home keys and this reason is being used as a weapon to tease him about the whippings he will get from his wife for coming late. One of the other group mate tells us about staying in Karachi for three weeks to attend a wedding, and he tells how Shia`s hide their identity as they are often killed or harassed by the Sunnis in that land. They also tell me that the Ramzan feast is not as grand in Karachi as it is in Mumbai. As the food arrives there are more rounds of laughter with one or the other groupmate being the victim of some joke. Finally when all finish, the guys tell chccha to get the Sadma(shock), they tell me its just a fun way of asking for the bill, to which one of the groupmate remarks “ its good we don’t say zakht to the tip we leave behind.”

Its almost 2:00a.m now, but the rush of people coming in and out of this tiny bylane hasn’t reduced much. We park ourselves at the sweet stalls, there is so much to choose, phirni, kesar and plain, gulab jamun, masala milk, jalebi, and ofcourse the all time favourite malpua. When we get out of the lane I ask my guide if there is a night bazzar, he tells me that further down there is the Bori Mohala, and Madanpura. Madanpura I have heard this name before and I want to go and see it. After a round of Khudha hafiz, the rest of the people retire for the day, we give our condolences to the wife beating victim and then the four of us walk towards Madanpura. I love walking on this road, under the flyover.

I look at all those people who are sleeping so peacefully, on the streets, devoid of their daily worries of survival, or cockroach or rat attacks. The earth is their bed and sky is their shelter. I wonder what happens to these people during the rains.

As we walk further I see the Noor Mohammed hotel which is famous for its Nali- Nihari a sort of delicacy next to the very famous Shalimar hotel. On the side we see groups of men chatting, playing games of carom. As we walk through the lanes of Madanpura, in another tiny bylane I watch a man stirring something in a huge pot, I go and ask him what he is cooking, He tells me he is making kheema and this is the preparation for Sehri( Sehri is the food they eat in the morning). He tells me they buy 600 kg of meat every day during this season.

In pockets we pass through garment shops, where the tailors are busy at work cutting and stitching, burkhas, topis etc. I notice some really old building yazdar mansion, ali Mahals of the world. We cross through the by lanes of Nagpada and Bhendi bazzar. These places were supposed to be the most dangerous, but there is nothing really dangerous about this road. Its calm and silent with people sitting and chatting at the nukkad, or restaurant workers getting ready for the next meal, or hoards of hawkers turning their carts into their beds sleeping on it. I would have just loved to have walk endlessly through these roads if it wasn’t for my old friends who just couldn’t walk any more.

I completely enjoyed seeing a totally different side of Mumbai. Mumbai can always surprise you with something new all the time

Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra

It all began one Saturday afternoon, when I sat starring outside my window, looking aimlessly at the green patch in front of my house and sulking about something. The phone rang.It was Nitin aka Godfather. He had called to tell me, that he has managed to get hold of a signed copy of Vikram Chandra`s much talked about book Sacred Games.I don’t know whether I was ignorant or indifferent,but I hadn’t really heard about the book or what it was actually about. But when I was told that its related to Mumbai and crime scene, for some strange I developed an instant urge to read that book, inspite of being warned of it being a 900 page hardcover(7kg in weight).


Sacred Games - A must read

This book is a crime thriller, not a dhishom -dhishom kind of thriller but more of a detective book. The main plot of the story is investigating the self-murder of a big crime lord of Mumbai aka Ganesh Gaitonde by Sartaj Singh an senior sub inspector. But amidst this main story are weaved even more interesting tales. It’s the story of the thousands of youngsters who float into city to make their Bollywood dreams, the story of their survival, the human side of gangsters and their team mates, their triumphs, their failures, betrayals, the story of partition affected families, a story of the Bangladeshi immigrants in Mumbai, to the story of infidelity in marriage. It’s a story of faith, belief and betrayal.

I love the way Chandra has weaved the characters in the story, with every character having an interesting tale to share and it is very real.

The novel is so gripping& entertaining, that you will not want to keep it aside until you finish reading it,no wonder over the last 3 weeks, even the crowded train compartments, full of chatty and loud women,or the tiresome bus journeys or the jerky Rickshaw ride has deterred me from closing my book (not to be forget the instances where I have been mocked by friends and collegeous for carrying such a huge book around)

That’s what I love about books; good books have the ability to help you dissolve your worries and troubles, getting you involved in the lives of its characters. Books are your best friends, and great company, never to betray you.

Very well written & gripping.An excellent book. I have enjoyed every minute of reading this brilliant book.Great job Vikram!

Beyond Classrooms! Lessons of Life

Teacher’s day brings back memories of celebrations at school, where we practiced for skits or song recitations days before the d-day, competed with each other to give the best gift to our favorite teachers, for some it was a chance to erase that bad picture they had painted for themselves, while for others just, an opportunity to simply acknowledge the presence of those who had really made a difference in their lives

Post my classroom days, every Teachers day, I like to reflect and think about all those non- classroom teachers who I have met throughout my life. These people have never thought of themselves as my teachers but they have shared with me some important learning’s, experience, knowledge which has helped me graduate year on year with flying colors, and that is what makes them my special teachers.

But I would like to tell you about the Biggest Teacher in my life, who saw me the second I entered this world.

He always had a smile on his face, energy in his eyes. He had an ability to mesmerize people with his talks. He could talk to you about anything under the sun, from the way a certain teacher troubled him, to how he and his school gang(golden gang) played pranks on students, to anecdotes about his interesting friends ranging from the 80 year old Dadima in the building, to the middle aged women of the navrati group, to the fathers of some of his friends, to those countless travelogues of trips that were planned on a spur of a moment to gather handicrafts, to tales about his young entrepreneur ventures, stories of his weird clientele, to his escapade from foreign countries, to his survival trip adventures, to theories on best crop yield, land , plantation, to the techniques on making some of the best dishes, to Indian Mythology and Hindu philosophy, to Psychology the list can go on.

What was unique about my teacher is that you would always take back something new at the end of a conversation with him. His style of teaching was not advisory, but mostly sharing oriented. I think he didn’t want to be a preacher, but someone who wanted to share what he had learnt.

On this day, let me share with you some important lessons that I learned from him

Never be attached to anybody or anything, because if your attached to something, you will have expectations from it, and if you are bound by it, it’s very difficult and hard to let go if it, if it’s gone tomorrow. Don’t be indifferent to what you are attached to, but develop the ability to live without it if it’s gone tomorrow.

Fight your own battle. This is something I have grown up with, my teacher never came in the middle to be a mediator to solve my quarrels, he wanted me to fight my own battles. He often told me. “Life is your own battle, do not expect others (including your parents & children) to come and support you, because they have their battle to fight, if you expect them to come and they don’t turn up you will be hurt.”

Give. A giver is what my teacher was. I often argued with my teacher, that we shouldn’t give to people who didn’t deserve, or do not acknowledge what we do for them. But I liked what he said, “God doesn’t grant everyone with the ability to give, you’re the chosen one, so give and there will never be less”

Trust. My teacher often said, “Don’t trust anybody in this world, not even your children or parents.” I had thought that maybe he was being very cynical, but having seen the outside world, I somehow am forced to believe it is true

Smile- The world is full of sorrow, share your joys not your sorrows. He had an uncanny ability of hiding all his sorrows under his smile and those cheerful talks.

I wonder how big this list would have been, if all had not ended on 29 December 2001, the day my biggest teacher closed his books from the world. But as they say a Great Teacher always lives in the knowledge and learning’s that he shares, just like Papa.

Independence Road-adventure

Ticket to Ride

Day 1 - August 11, 2006

I zoomed into Bombay central station, a little before the meeting time. As I got of the cab apart from the normal Coolie`s pestering me to carry the luggage, two train-ticket touts came enquiring if I needed to buy the Rajdhani train tickets. I ignored the first guy, but when a second tout approached me , I couldn’t help asking how much it would cost, he replied just 200 rs extra. It would be interesting to know what kind of money these guys make in this business

At the station, the atmosphere is charged with steaming engines of the trains awaiting departure, people waiting for their travel companions. Hands packing and unpacking baggages, people catching a few winks before the train. & ofcourse the anticipation and excitement in the eyes of those viewing the train arriving at the station .As I await the arrival of my two friends & also my travel mates for the journey at Desi Deli I decide to look around. On one side is the old IRTC canteen serving the normal snacks and adjoining it is the swanky MC Donald’s & Desi Deli air-conditioned eatery. The arches and the architecture at the station remind me of the Grand Central station in New York. As we walk towards our train the Rajdhani,I remember the last ride I had taken on the train almost 10 years ago with Papa & Ma where we had just managed to board the train just a minute before its departure

We find our seats on the train, and are greeted by newspapers. One of my travel mates who has probably never traveled in a long distance train is amazed and reaches out for his wallet to pay for the newspaper & water just to find out that it is just a part of the services offered by the Rajdhani. Three of us park ourselves on or side window berth. It’s a nice view outside as we pass through the green fields, the rivers the lakes. As one of our travel mates rightly describes it, “ Its like viewing nature through a plasma screen” There aren’t any interesting people sitting around us, except two small kids in the next cubicle who keep scaring us by howling like dogs.

I walk around to the hot air buffet car, where some workers are peeling a sack full of potatos, one guy is cooking chicken in a pan, and another is frying the cutlets. Apparently they are cooking for the first class passengers. They also prepare the breakfast for the entire train. This is just a open kitchen no food is served here. I move ahead and check out the first class compartment which seemed very neat with each cubicle having private doors. The first class compartment also has a bathing room equipped with hot water.

Prank stories, annecdotes, weird experiences spiced with snacks and a scrumptious dinner later we decide to retire for the day. As I begin reading my book, I cant help remembering all the characters i had met on my last train ride couple of months ago. They had kept me entertained with their tales & queries keeping me distantly away from my book reading.

Day 2
Ride to Rishikesh

The day begins on an exciting note. Its 4:30a.m I wake up at Kota station, I struggle to open the door of the train as curious onlookers stare at me from outside the door. Finally one of the policemen standing outside, opens the door for me and I request the chai wala to make me chai without sugar and he sweetly obliges. Back in the train, I try to wake up my oldie travel mates but all my efforts are gone for a toss as they continue to sleep. Later I try to catch a wink, as I don’t want to miss the morning, which is beautiful. At 6am I am finally up and happily glaring out of my plasma screen window. Its beautiful, the clouds have just come out, the green fields with workers toiling away in the field, old village houses, women filling water, people resting on their khatiyas.

Finally we reach Delhi station and get out from Paharghanj section of the station and get into the swanky CRV that we have borrowed from Bhuj,who had just left the city a couple of hours back to spend her weekend in Rajashtan. Mukesh our driver is in full form with his swanky sunglasses. A lady Rickshaw driver passes by the station making us all excited.

As the three of us debate on whether he looks like Dubeyji from Monsoon Wedding or Om Puri, Mukesh takes on the role of the perfect Delhi guide and drives us around Akshardham. Akshardham is an impressive temple. At about 12 noon we halt at a nice Coffe Day and coax the outlet to allow us to eat the Sabudana Khicdi that Mom has made for us. At that time, sabudana khicdi seems like heaven for us, the fasting souls. As are Michael Schumacher, Mukesh takes on the wheel, we feel like we are on a jet passing through the sugarcane fields, the dhabas, the tractors, the rivers, the overcrowded rickshaws & buses with people hanging outside.

After crossing three states, Delhi, Uttarpradesh & Utranchal we finally arrive at Rishikesh at 3:30 a.m. After various discussions and debates we finally find a cozy place called Ishan Guest house to stay at Lakshman Jhula with the most outstanding view of Ganges. Later we check out the German bakery adjoining the hotel frequented by Firangs. We relish our chais & milks and begin our long walk to the Aarti in the evening. It an interesting walk through the Jhula, shops and the temples.

The Aarti is one of the most divine experiences, which every visitor to Rishikesh must definitely have. We sit on the banks of the Ghat, dipping our feet in the cold water of the river. Its yet sunny & the kirtaniyas are just setting up. On one side are the mountains, in the middle is the Lakshman Jhula( Jhula is a kind of bridge on top of the river and supported only at the edges, it sort of looks like the Howrah bridge).

The cool breeze, the setting sun, the scenic view of the Ganges, you just cant help but close your eyes to believe your actually here. Peace is all you can breathe in. But not for too long, as the bhajans, begin the crowd also starts pouring in . Some of them talking so loudly that you could easily get distracted . We do the aarti and then let the leaf bowl full of flowers and diya float into the water. The entire experience can leave you with so much energy. Some dignitaries have also come for the aarti, from the people we know its Murli Deora, the Petroleum minister, we later learn he was in town to attend some ONGC conference. We are in the mood to meditate so we walk further down the ghat, just to find a tranquil spot to mediate. Finally we do meditate on top of the well or waterboard. It is rejuvenating.

After that peaceful experience, we look forward to dinner at Chotiwala. Chotiwala is a simple eatery serving a mix of Indian & continental food. We get a spot at the terrace and gulp down the scrumptious thali full of vegetables and rotis and some good sweets. We all have mixed reactions on the food, I personally thought they put too much of oil in the food thus killing the actual flavor, while my other two travel mates liked the food.

Some arguments later we take a rickshaw ride back to the hotel.Well our tiredness does not deter us from further doses of laughter, music and free cyber cafe sessions on one of our travel mate’s computer, post which we retire for the day

I hope to write about my complete journey soon & upload some cool pics if my travel mates send them to me. Watch out this space for more

High Chair

It is a beautiful Sunday morning in Goa.It is so peaceful and calm. As I laze through breakfast savoring the scenic view of the endless sea at this fancy restaurant, I suddenly happen to glance at a very neatly crafted high chair across my table. As I look at it, lot of thoughts came to mind

I am reminded about the numerous instances where my friends, cousins, aunts etc have requested for a high chair for their little ones. when we had dined at restaurants. I think about the times I have laughed at the young parents trying to keep the energetic kid seated on the chair, or the times they have struggled to feed the little one.Times when I have really felt sorry for these young parents who had to keep up with the tantrums of the little one, just taking away the pleasure of having even one peaceful meal

As I looked at it again I wondered when I would need to ask for a high chair. Over the past couple of years I have developed a sudden fondness for children. It’s fascinating to know that just a small cell has the ability to grow into something so beautiful, so innocent, and so joyful. I wonder how my parents feel when they see me. They have probably seen me in a shape of a little cell, and today, I am this overgrown infant.

Motherhood must be such a divine experience. The ability to give birth to a living creature just fascinates me. I have loved to hear the fascinating tales of young parents. Stories of not being able to sleep, holidays turning into disasters and the un- explanatory satisfying stories of the first walk, the first word, the first day in school etc.

So as I sit here on this lovely Sunday morning, free from of any worries, any responsibilities, equipped with the freedom to do what I want, I wonder if I really want to be the one asking for a high chair. But I guess life is about having a plethora of experiences, and the film that the almighty has scripted for us definitely has Time for everything. ( just like that famous song from Forest Gump. There is time to laugh. There is time to cry..). So when the time comes I am sure I will have the opportunity to pick up a high chair.

Traumatic Tuesday

As I left office this evening never had I imagined that I was about to embark on a traumatic journey home. As I got off the cab at Elphistone station, someone just shouted that there was a bomb blast at Mahim. As I reached the platform, I saw hoards of people rushing out of the station, as I tried to find out what was happening, there was an announcement on the system, that all trains until Bhayandar were dismissed. Having been so used to listening to all this incidents on a daily basis now, I never really bothered to much, but when I learnt that the last blast happened at Bandra station, I just prayed that Ma, was not affected by it, I frantically tried calling her. Ma had just called me, a couple of minutes earlier and told me she was at Bandra, so in all possibility she was going to be at the station and boarding the same first class compartment in which the blasts occurred

As I waited to get a cab towards Bandra, I just managed to get through Ma`s phone and she told me she was alright and heading home in the rickshaw. If it was not for God’s blessings and everybody’s good wishes, I don’t know what state she would have been. Later when I reached home, I learnt that she had seen the blast in front of her eyes outside the station. The dead bodies being wrapped and rushed outside, bleeding passengers being rushed into ambulances, the scare in the peoples eyes, the howling of the workers to make way for the patients.

After walking a little bit where I saw some injured bodies being taken in an ambulance, myself and two other women managed to get a cab. Later I learnt that the cabbie was not aware of the blasts so he took the ride. The journey back home from Elphistone took me exactly four & half-hours and was truly traumatic.
Ambulances and Police vehicle alarm sounds, roads jammed with traffic, sea of people walking on both sides of roads, over crowded buses, rickshaws, taxis, stranded people waiting for some kind of transport to get home, and to add to it the sudden heavy downpour in some areas that even made visibility impossible. As I tried calling and informing colleagues, relatives and friends at work amidst the jammed network, loads of Sms and phone calls from across the country and the world started pouring in, just to find out if we were all ok. This was probably the only comforting factor; it felt nice to know that there were so many people in this world who cared to find out, whether you were dead or alive

As I dropped the other two women at their destination near Parle station, I was more than willing to give a lift to anyone on my route home, but just as I reached Vile Parle Station, some kind of gunda volunteers, maybe some party workers along with the policemen were just forcing people into cabs or cars to get them home. There act was not bad, but I am not sure if forcing or using harsh language with the cabbies and rickshawalas to get stranded passengers on route home was a right way of doing this social service

So now, I had seven people sitting in cab. Traffic post Andheri was crazy. However, the Bombay spirit was truly visible, volunteers coming and passing bottles of water, people climbing on the hood of Volvo buses & outstation buses to get home, people getting into trucks and hanging out of BEST buses. However, all this while what really bothered me was the state of families of those hundreds of people who would have died in these serial blasts. How would their families find them? Who knows out of those who have died, some would have been the sole bread earners for the family. Some would have just started their families, what will happen to those families?

A Death is such a painful thing, especially when its least expected.

Football fling

I have never been a sports enthusiast, except watching a little bit of cricket. So when the FIFA World cup 2006 started, I looked at it with ridicule and thought it was crazy for people to stay awake and watch a game in which not even our country was playing. I had never really watched football, did not even know the rules of the game and did not even want to know. However, it all changed, my football fling could be no different than the typical Bollywood movie plot of girl meets boy, hates him, then suddenly something happens and both fall in love.

My affair with football actually began exactly one month ago. It was a relaxed Sunday evening, I was recovering from a bad flu and being tired of sitting at home just wanted to get out. Having convinced a townie friend of mine to come to suburbs, we chatted over chai and muffins at my favorite cafe- BBC. She started telling me about football and how she had been following it, although I had no real interest in the game, I wanted to know a little bit about it, coz I was running some contest on the football theme and information about the game, would just help me create some effective communication. Suddenly I was a little interested in the game, and as another football enthusiast friend joined us, it was decided to go and watch the match at some place. As the match began, it was a little embarrassing for my friends as they explained to me the rules of game using the salt and pepper bottles on the table. As that’s where it all began.

As some one who likes to learn about new things, I thought this would be something interesting to follow, although I did not watch all the matches, I continued to keep watching them on and off and sometimes it was boring, but sometimes it was fun. As we came closer to the end, the semifinals, I started looking forward to the matches and developed a sort of liking for it

Right now as I watch the finals between Italy and France, I do hope Italy wins and feel happy to have learned about a new game.I think I am going to continue my fling with football by following it with the English League coming up in August.

A trip to Heaven and back

Beep... Beep… 3:45a.m my alarm rang. Getting up at that hour was definitely not my idea of beginning the weekend, but after my telecon, the previous night with the attendant at ST bus depot in Borivali, I knew that if I wanted to take the first bus at five I had to get up early.The telecon with the bus depot attendant and a conversation earlier in the day with a colleague who told me about talking to a postmaster over the phone at the postoffice to get her mail has left me wondering if the service levels of our government bodies had climbed up the ladder or was it just an impact of tele-communications.

I walk out of the building, with a kind of feeling I have had when I have gone to write an exam, where I am all prepared, and I know exactly the kinds of answers I won’t be able to solve. I sort of know what is expected of this journey, a boring long bus ride, meeting my father’s men, who will have nothing but sob stories about current scenario and some praise stories on Dad. Meeting the clueless Sarpanch who will ask me to pay the house tax and apologize for not sending the receipt.

As I ride to the bustop, the roads are empty and dirty with the collected rainwater, sky is pitch dark, and it is drizzling.It is not a very encouraging atmosphere to start a journey especially in the ST bus.The bus arrives in time and it is not very crowded,I get a window seat.As the bus moves towards Dadar,more and more people get in. A slightly elderly lady, dressed in a Mahrashtrian navari sits next to me. She seems to be going to her village.She keeps on fidgeting with her plastic bag full of clothes murmuring something to herself, finally it lands up on the shelf.Surprisingly the ST bus is quite comfortable.

As the sun rises and we hit Panvel,its beautiful outside.I am just fascinated watching the green mountains,the fields, the sky, the lakes under the bridges that I pass, cows bathing in the lakes, the birds chirping. Suddenly Mother Nature had boasted my mood, I am energized and all my depressing and negative thoughts about the trip are being thrown out of the window as we continue to move. To make the trip even more enjoyable I switch on the radio to listen to some music. Guess which song comes ‘ Chala jata hu, from Swades’ now the mood is totally set in, I too feel like Sharukh Khan returning to his village. Nostalgia fills in as I pass through Karnala, amantran at Wadgad Nakka, Shirdon and other places where we would always halt on our way to Nilaj.

Finally, I arrive at Kolad, its about 10 km from Nilaj, the place where the estate is. My father’s work associate lives at Kolad, next to the bus depot. He usually guides me and updates me about what happening so a visit to his house is a must. He lives in a typical Maharashtrian upper-class house. He owns some rice mills, has some construction material business, owns some land, and is well networked with the tehsil and other officials. His house is a typical village bungalow in which rooms are constructed from time to time based on need without any design or architectural element to it.

I wait for the man to come in the gloomy drawing room. He enters and tells me “ You came back to India”.I had visited the place almost a year back before I went to the US.There is nothing wrong in his question but his tone is un- welcoming, I want to get up and tell him, why you thought I would go away and you could just encroach my land.

I decide to get to the point and enquire about what has been happening. He casually remarks that there have been some parties who have been enquiring about buying the place but nothing has worked out so far .This is nothing new, I have heard this on every single trip of mine. There seems to be some development now. Apparently, they are building a dam near the estate; this is good news so the water problem at the estate can be solved by it. He gives me his new telephone no and tells me to inform him 2 days in advance before I come next time so that he can fix a meeting with tatye at the Tehsil to find out exactly about my property records. Unfortunately, it is a second Saturday so government offices are shut so cant visit them today.

Outside his house, I take a ride to the estate in this big rickshaw, which runs in the villages, with a seating for about eight passengers but usually the double sit. For 80 bucks, I get a ride to the estate all by myself. Its not a bad deal at all, since its 10km anyways. I feel like a king in that rickshaw. I start talking to the rickshaw guy and since I am hungry I ask him to stop at Mai Bhavani- a restaurant i have been visiting since I was a kid.

Mai Bhavani is a classy Maharashtrian Dhabba run by an old couple. It also has a temple with it. The Mai Bhavani interiors are changed it just seems like the Indian version of the Crocker Barrels and the country restaurants I have visited and liked in the US. The tables are made of bamboo sticks and painted green in colour and so are the chairs. The dinning area is covered with a bamboo round roof. There are loads of baskets filled with oil, kokam and other ayurvedic stuff on display for sale. On the side, there are three big jars of pickle. Since there is no one in the dinning hall I go in the kitchen a girl comes out I enquire for breakfast.

I invite the rickshaw driver to join me, who is a little shy and insists on not having anything as he has already finished breakfast at home, however settles for some chai. I am treated to some authentic Maharashtrian poha and kothmirvadi with lasun chatni and steaming hot chai. Over chai I chat with the rickshaw driver asking him about the train timings, to working hours of government offices on Saturday to the political champion Sunil A of Rashtravadi party who rules the region and how Shiv sena has lost its power here. When I tell him, I am going to the estate above Nilaj, he tells me that he has been there years ago to see the flower plantation and how amazed he was to see those flowers transported in an AC car.

I go inside to pay my bill. An old woman who seems to be the owner and chef comes out, I thank her for a good breakfast and tell her I like the way they have redone the place recollecting my earlier visits as a kid. When she learns, that I am Gautam Shah’s daughter, she is stunned and remembers him and tell me in chast Marathi, how papa called him mother, always came here for meals and at times even requested her for a head massage with their special oil.

The Rickshaw guy is ready to take me to the estate but I ask him to drop me at the village, as I want to go to the office. The Rickshaw guy is high-tech with a mobile phone. He gives me his mobile no and tells me I can call him anytime incase I need a drop.

I walk into a village, I look at the school. Years ago, I remember Papa bringing me to the school to distribute gifts to the village kids. It was an annual Diwali ritual. The village is definitely more developed now, less houses with mud more which concrete and some houses with two storeys. As I walk to the Panchayat office, a lady comes to enquire who I am, I tell her I need to meet the Panch and when I tell her I am Gautam shah`s daughter she suddenly shouts calling the Gram siphai saying Gautam sheth`s daughter has come.

Suddenly the people in the surrounding houses come outside, starring at me. Thankfully the Gram Sipahi comes soon and I get into office. He tells me the Panch is not in today and I ask him to show me my house records and get a little annoyed at him for not having changed it to my mothers name yet. He remembers everything about my case. He immediately removes the death certificate I had given him and requests me to write a letter once again. For some strange reason he thinks I am married and asks me “Tumche Mr ale nahi” He urges me to give the change in name letter again and thus dictates to me in Marathi, I haven’t written Marathi in ages, I feel no different from the hundreds of other villagers he must be dictating letters to. I tell him I am coming back next Saturday, he needs to ensure that the name is changed in records and I am given the new receipt.

I walk through the village with people coming out giving me very curious glances. I am not really in a mood to talk to anyone, but I have to since I cant figure out the way. I ask an old lady, she immediately calls for a man to assist me to the plot. In the time that I am waiting for the man to arrive, she enquires how my mother is, and remembers seeing me as a kid. More bodies and eyes stare at me. I realize the power of my father’s name. My escort, a middle aged man in shorts arrives, and takes me to the estate, showing me the new dam that is being built and the straight road that Papa had built upto the estate. As I walk up, I am in heaven. Its amazingly green, On one side there just mountains on the other 3 sides small ponds. It is heaven. I thank the guy for showing me the place and tell him I will sit here for a while so he can leave.

When I look at the house papa has built, a place where he had wanted to live once I had finished graduation it was devastating. The house was like khandar, it had not been in any great shape earlier too, but it had got worst now. The windows and doors had also dissapeared. I wondered why Papa had chosen this plot to build the house one look around and I got the answer. You couldn’t ask for a better view, just beautiful green mountains on all sides and small pond on one side.

The house reminded me of the state of some forts and palaces today, which were flourishing kingdoms at one point of time. This was Papa’s little kingdom, whenever I came with him it was always buzzing with people, even when the house was not built there was a bamboo canopy where we would sit. It was right here, many years ago that the entire village had a festive feast, it was right here that the adivasi workers at the estate showed Papa their gratitude by putting up a special dance performance for us. It was here in the open under the tree that the papa had cooked the most amazing khicdhi on a makeshift brick stove. It was here that 100 kids from my school had come for a nature trail and papa had fondly cooked for them. It was right under this tree, that we had got papas special friend Bochakhaju- the Monkey drunk with a little beer and watched his acrobatics. It was right here that papa had cooked and entertained his countless guests. Today there was not a single soul here, it was silent and beautiful, and all these things were history now.

On various instances I had wondered why on the earth did Papa have to buy land here. As I walked through the estate I got the answer. Probably for the first time, after Papa passed away I realized that I had inherited an asset and not a liability .Its amazing how age and experience can change the way you look at things. I think in my initial visits, I was more occupied thinking about land and looking after it with its complexities as a problem, thus totally ignoring the actual problem and addressing it with solutions and continuing to keep in on the backburner.

On my way back I trekked down the pukka road across the three villages to reach the highway and waved out to one of the big rickshaws on the road to go to Kolad. This was interesting ride with twelve adults and 4 children squeezing in the 8 seater rickshaw. I hoped to see a Volvo coming from Mahableshwar or Goa so that I could make my trip back in the ac. So for 110 ruppes I got a AC ride home in the Volvo. In a couple of hours I was back to hustle bustle and traffic of Mumbai after my short rendezvous with Heaven giving me loads of happiness

An inspiring conversation with a friend, a focused approach, a little bit of age and experience, earned me a trip to Heaven this Saturday.

Even-out evenings in Bombay

On Sunday evening as I dived into dinner at new eatery in town, talking about places to visit closer to work and otherwise my friend remarked “There is nothing much to do in the evenings in Bombay”. On Monday night when I left work, that statement suddenly came back to me. Pondering over the statement through out my train ride amidst finishing my book I thought about a couple of things that one could do in Mumbai on weeknights post work. Have listed them down would be great to add to the list so please contribute

Things where you don’t need to spend the mula
Mumbai has many bays
You can take a walk down
worli sea face .
Chowpatty beach
Nariman Point skyline
Dadar beach
Gateway of India
Port Garden- Ballard Pier
TIFR garden- Although u need some connection to get in there
Walk through the by lanes of Fort

Bookstores

This could be another interesting place to catch up on all the magazines & books..Most bookstores are open till 9. My recommendations are
Crossword at Kemps Corner- This is a real treat its probably the biggest book store in Mumbai. You can also unwind at the Moshes Café . Crosswords at Inorbit, Shivaji Park, Bandra are good hangouts to
Oxford book store- Oxford doesn’t have a wide choice of books but the chai and muffin at the cha bar are defi worth a visit

Coffee shops

Coffee culture is definitely in. There is nothing like unwinding with a nice book at any of the coffee shops. But some coffee bars become interesting because of kind of people you get to see there in turn the live entertainment that you get to watch
Barista – I have always preferred the Barista to the Coffee Day. Barista next to Regal is interesting as u can end up meeting a lot of backpackers, travelers and if you get the window seat it can be full entertainment watching the street kids talking to the firangs. Barista at Bandstand is nice with the view of the sea. The Shivaji Park Barista is also very relaxing
Of course the Bombay Baking company at the Marriot gets my vote. They serve some very good chai, coffee and muffins and you can pick up books and magazines to catch up on your reading. They close at 10 pm, but they are open 24 hours on Monday, when the coffee shop is closed
Prithvi café is also an interesting place to hangout; you just sit under a tree sipping irish coffee.
Café which has a similar ambience like Prithvi, tucked away inside Famous studio. Although they have some art displays there, the café is handled by Cafe Coffee Day so no great surprises on food and coffee

Music

Music is any form is usually entertaining. Karoake has become very popular. Some of the places where you defi get to watch some good Karoke action
Not Just Jazz By the Bay – They have a band playing or Karoke almost every day post 10
Starters & More & Soul Fry- There are others joinng in too like Zenzi, Bohemia etc
Mondegar and Leopold are other great hangouts. Mondegar has a juke box whereas at Leopold there is music only upstairs with a DJ playing some hits.



Movie screenings/ Plays / exhibitions

If you are some one who likes to watch offbeat cinemas then you should watch out for the movie screenings by British Council, Alliance France, National Film Divison, worli etc. Most of these screenings are free. .You can find them listed in Time-Out. It’s a good magazine to subscribe too. Most plays are screened on weekends but Prithvi theatre and NCPA sometimes do have screenings on weekdays. Also throughout the year there a tons of exhibitions of various kinds that you can go and check out


Hobby classes/ volunteer work/ Vocational course

Another interesting thing to do is take up a class on something novel. Something like
Kickboxing
Karate/Judo
Yoga
Salsa Class
Basic chopping and cooking class
Volunteer to teach at a night school ( I have been trying to find an NGO, where I can do this, but no luck so far, if any of you know anything like this please let me know)
Volunteer a couple of hours at an old age home (There is nothing like bringing happiness for a few minutes in someone’s life)
An Evening course to sharpen your skills, Velingar, NMIMS a lot of institutes offer a variety of courses

Case History- DADAJI

One Sunday evening, I accompanied Dadaji to the newly opened Positive Health Clinic, a homeopathic treatment center in my locality. What’s interesting about going to a homeopathic clinic is that, they prescribe you medicines according to the way you behave, your likes dislikes etc, thus as Dadaji gave his so called case history to the doctor, glimpses of his life just came in front of me and I decided to pen them down

Dadaji, Dada, Granpa these are probably the only words by which I refer my Dadaji. Dadaji is 83 years old but he still is one of those fortunate men who can ignite the hearts of women in any age group not only by his appearance but also his witty talks. This has been a constant phenomenon in his life, even before I was born.

It all probably began in the 20`s when Dadaji a, fair handsome young man hailing from Uttar Pradesh landed in Mumbai. He had stayed at various places from Tehri, to Agra to Mathura to complete his education, finally landing in Mumbai to make his dreams, or to just get out of the big family in Haldwani, Nainital. Granpa a son of a very well-known lawyer Brijbhushan Das, never really went to school. Teachers would come home to teach him.

W hen he arrived to Mumbai and slept outside in a chawl of his uncle’s house, women both young girls, ladies always had an eye on him and gossip letters were churned out to his mother stating that all the girls are behind him so its better to get him married. Finally an alliance was sought out and my grandmother (Ashru) a daughter of one of wealthiest gold merchants of Jhaver bazzar was chosen as a match. The wedding was supposedly very elaborate although it was held in the porch of the building, but the barattis were given stay at the Sea Green hotel which was a big thing in those days.

Dadaji has always had a very western approach or thinking in his life. He doesn’t believe in God, never agreed of old customs and most of all he liked to treat girls and boys equally (that’s probably the reason why his daughter and granddaughters are what they are today). He worked with companies like Marshal & Sons to APE Bellis, traveled the world on work from the time when such voyages could be undertaken only by ships. Dadaji is a total fitness freak, totally into making health food, walking, although his knees don’t allow him to walk to much now.


As a child I still remember when Dadaji would come to drop me to school or even when he would be a guest at any of social gatherings in college, work or outside I have been bombarded with compliments like, “Your Dadaji is so cute.. Your Dadaji is very handsome and smart”. To get compliments at the age of 80 plus is definitely something

Dadaji and me share a very special bond, from the time I could remember. When I was probably 3 years old and was living in Haldwani with parents, it was he who on one of his trips, had insisted my father on sending me to Mumbai for a better education, assuring him that he and Dadi would look after me till, papa could wind of and come to Mumbai.

I still remember walking with Dadaji every evening to the Taj cake shop; to buy his brown bread and then visiting the general store to buy me a packet of chocolate. Taking me to land of Mickey mouse(USA). Driving me to school, taking me on the poney ride at Bandstand, or to the train garden. Oh how could I forget the museum of my childhood photographs and reams of projector films that Dadaji had created which will help me preserve those wonderful memories through time.

Even today, by the grace of god this bond still exists. Interestingly, Dadaji`s birthday falls on 25 Dec, and he truly is my real life Santa Clause.I do hope that Dadaji, Satish Shah makes his century in full good health.

Over a Cup of Chai

Mumbai can turn dreams into reality

It was a hot summer afternoon and as I sipped some steaming hot chai dunked in glucose biscuit with my friend, I looked at the little boy- the helper at the tea stall as I always did, when I visited the tea stall. My eyes wandered to get a glimpse of the little boy as he hurried from one end to other distributing chai, collecting the chai cups, washing them.

Every time I saw that little kid, my heart cried to the fact that this little boy had to work so hard in the burning son. To which my friend remarked “You don’t have to be sorry for them, rather never be sorry, this is Mumbai, anyone who comes to the city and has the determination and dedication to make it big, will make it big. Today you see this kid distributing chai; ten years down the line he may own a restaurant. Mumbai is a land full of opportunities, you just have to find yours, look at me when I was in college to pay my debts I too have washed dishes, but today it’s different. Indians are survivors; we can go through shit but still come out of it so well”

I paused for a minute to think about what he has just said, one part of me did not want to agree to the fact, how could I not feel sorry for a little kid wandering in the sun, serving people, but as I looked at him again, I realized how right he was. Years ago he too had worked hard, working with a caterer, traveling to remotest parts of the country in the heat and sun repairing sugarfactory machines, working for employees who didn’t pay, running from landlords, and finally he had fought all odds and arrived in life with a great job, a good stock market game and a house he owned. It all seemed like a movie, but it wasn’t, it was so real, a real life hero stood in front of him.

His remark made me look at the little boy with a different perspective, who knows some day this little boy may became a proud owner of a Udupi restaurant or own a catering unit and make his parents proud. I guess some people are born with a fortune and some with the qualities to make their fortune.

But there were thousands of such children across the city, the country and even the world, to how many would fortune shine? How many would destiny change.

Leopold Cafe

Leopold is a bar- café tucked in the heart of the Colaba causeway, and had became a place of great interest to me after reading Shantaram which made me look at Mumbai with a totally different angle. I was very keen on visiting the café and observing the activities that I had easily ignored on my previous trips

Flashback
I still remember the first time I visited Leopold café. I was in college, and had heard a lot about this place from our seniors in Rotaract. Infact, going to Leopold was more like an event I was looking forward too. The visit that time was interesting, although I don’t think I had really observed the people around, the kick was just about visiting the place and telling the world you had been there. Couple of years later when my office was in town we often visited Leopold but always headed to the bar upstairs.

May 2006

As I walked to Leopold through Colaba Causeway I looked at the animated hoarding with bold lettering and pictures shouting out Leopold since 1837. This was new signage which has replaced the old simple Leopold sign recently.
When we walked in a firang guy, who was probably aGerman seated at the table near the open door, greeted us, welcoming us inside.After sometime we realized he was trying to make conversation with the other men seated on the table behind us.Suddenly he was standing between our table and the table behind and announced that he sang very well and would do a special performance for us. I was extremely excited and hoped to see some action, but unfortunately the guy simply sat on the table with those men and disappeared after a few minutes.

I saw this young guy probably in his 20s with a plastic bag, standing outside, looking inside than talking on his cell phone, minutes later he caught a table next to us and after sometime ventured outside exchanged bags with a middle-aged man and returned back enjoying his beer, leaving my mind to wander what the deal could have been. Amidst the chaos there was a group of American and Korean tourists who were competing with each other on doing a beer bottoms up. When I went for a visit to the washroom, I saw this firang women chatting with a Indian guy near the washbasin. The guy probably in his mid 30`s looked like some kind of agent, again this could just be a figment of my imagination. He chatted with the women enquiring about her health, and telling her she looked much better, maybe the new drug the doctor suggested her must have helped her.

Leopold has a total different culture even within its two sections. The non- ac section is full of tourists, very few Indians. The interiors gives it the 80`s look. The big old clock, the paintings of rockstars, musicians probably of 70`s or 80`s, the sign of the parsi logo( don’t know whats it supposed to be called) on the windows above and casual irani chairs and tables. Hemi pointed out the good thing about having the menu sandwiched on the glass table, thus not bothering to wait for the waiter to bring the menu to order. Also downstairs you have to pay first to get your alcohol. I wonder how this place would have been in 18 71 don’t think my grandfather ever visited it.

Upstairs is more like a lounge bar, there is music, you will find very few foreigners upstairs.

All in all, I think I like Leopold, an interesting place to hangout, maybe I should go their often.

Check this out too
http://www.outlookindia.com/photoessays.asp?serial=1&foldername=20060510&filename=shantaram&storyid=1&mode=1

Oddities Meme

Satya tagged me onto this…
The Meme rules:
Once you are tagged you MUST write a blog entry about your 10 weird habits/things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next six people to be tagged and list their names.

I am an adventurer, I love exploring and traveling the world
I am a complete foodie and love to visit all kinds of food places right from a small eatery crammed amidst a chawl to a shady bar to a fancy Italian or Thai restaurant to a swanky restaurant in an five star
I love to soak and experience the culture and traditions of the places I visit. For e.g when I go on a backpack trip, I travel in the local modes of transport,( cycles ricks, local buses etc), speak to locals, try a visit a local family, try their cuisine, visit their religious places, learn about their traditions etc
I love to try out different things, especially when it means breaking the norms for e.g. Taking the last train home, traveling at odd hours in rickshaws, visiting an eatery where women are not allowed.Visiting a dance bar is one of the things that i have been wanting to do for ages
I love to walk and trek. The longest I have probably walked is from Kandivali to Siddhivinayak, a cool 6 hours. I also like to run, but the longest I have run is about 7 km at the marathon.
I love to walk through the streets of any city, town or village observing the intricacies of the place the people. There is always something new to discover with every walk even if its repeated
I love reading, mostly Indian fiction. Shantaram and Maximum city are my favorite books.
I hate crowded trains, maybe coz I haven’t learnt to get in to them and Dadar station
I get very irritated with people who make false promises.
I love watching the sea, sunset and sunrise

Six people who should do this:
(if you haven't already done it)

Mr brownstone, bombayroads, veena, fuzzyworld,shaheer
manfrommiddleeast

If you may wonder WTF is meme

Its an idea, project, statement or even a question that is posted by one blog and responded to by other blogs. Although the term encompasses much of the natural flow of communication in the Blogosphere
www.fzelders.nl/weblog/

Dancing to tunes or notes…

Do they dance? What do they wear? Who are these girls? Why do they take up such a job? Right from the time I was a teenager, I have always been curious to find out about the very popular Dance bars of Bombay. There were a couple of these bars in nandi galli, Bandra which I would often pass on my way to the station. I remember one of the names, Asha bar and restaurant. I was very curious to know what happens in these bars, my father who was a very open minded person, agreed to put an end to my curiosity about the dance bars by answering all my queries related to them, little had he known that he has just sowed the seed to by curiosity. He said he had visited one of them, on the insistence of one of his clients for a meeting, he totally hated it. It had loud music, women fully dressed and dancing to glaring loud music and men throwing money at them. He told me that it was the first and last time he ever visited one and would never go their again. When I asked him what he thought about these women dancing in the bars? Was a good thing or a bad? I loved his answer must share it with you

“beta, these girls who work in the bar, do not like to work here, they are doing these out of a need to feed their families. We live in a society, where every man has a physiological and psychological need for attention, sex etc, thus when he comes to a dance bar his ego is satisfied because he can throw money and get attention from any women present there. Its because of these girls, that girls like you are safe to go roam around the city even late at time without the fear of getting molested or raped, like in cities of the north. You should actually be grateful to them”

Over the period of years my inquisitiveness for the dance bars increased and I tidbits of information about them from friends, journalists, books

No entry charge to get into a bar
Women are fully dressed usually in the most gaudy clothes and they dance to latest Bollywood hits
There are various levels in the dance a bar catering to different strata’s, the Nightlovers at Andheri is supposed to be very sleek and fancy and probably the most expensive of the lot. Deepa bar at Parle is medium. However there used to be tons of these bars across Dahisar and Borivali. The fancier one in the suburbs used to be Jharna
At these bars you cannot touch the women, there are bouncers present
I am told the men through money at the girl or buy a 100 or ten rupees garland and give it to the girl
The guys who visit these bars are usually businessmen, local gangsters, drug peddlers, film producers etc. Some visitors often blow up to lakhs or even cores within one night. I guess it’s a good vent for their black money
The water and beer in dance bars is very expensive. For e.g. a bottle of water is Rs 100.
The bars have been operating for many years under the cultural dance performances license
Most of the girls who work in these bars work in shifts. 9pm to 1pm and 1pm to 5pm. So if you ever take the last train at 1:15 from church gate and sit in the ladies general compartment you will find loads of these girls entering at Grant road station and Dadar. Chatting about the latest makeup, talking about the irritating client at the bar, laughing and joking around these girls company is sure to make your ride home enjoyable
Dance bars are a topic of great interest. Reams and reams of newsprint has been dedicated to dance bars whether its on websites, books, newspapers or television. Channels. Infact when the state government lifted the ban on dance bars it was the front page news of every single newspaper in Mumbai.


Dance bars is something synonym with Mumbai. I wonder why such places haven’t opened in Delhi or Gujarat. I am told Bangalore has a few dance bars. Dubai has some very fancy ones; infact after the ban in Mumbai, many of them went to work in the dance bars in Dubai
and Bangalore

However, finally when I convinced a set of my friends to take me to dance bar or cham cham bar as it is called, it got prolonged, I went out of the country for a couple of months and when I was back they had banned the dance bars. Now there is hope after the government has lifted the ban