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