Bandra's feminine side

Stand on the Bandra station's platform for a while, a train full of boisterous crowd starts it serpentine move towards you. You stand perplexed wondering how come this people gather themselves everyday for this imminent ordeal. Your thoughts are getting stirred with chaotic descent of the people out of train. Now, all you want to do is get yourself off the platform but then you gaze towards the brighter side of the train. Of course, the ladies with their comparable ease can't be overlooked. These fairer creations are quite legendary in hypothetical sense of words. They have knitted a lining for themselves on a fabric called Mumbai.

No big deal if words are scrambling up but today, women are seeing the brighter side of liberty and choice. They don't seem to stumble upon some stupid orthodoxy. Some have even crossed the gender divide and are happily creating niches, belying bias. Education has definitely played a gigantic role here. Without understanding, girls wouldn't have dreamt of being someone, let alone, fight for their right to dream. Life is still difficult on the darker slums where electricity is a luxury. Mumbai is approaching its threshold level of human inhabitation and the cost of aspirations is heavily on due. Amid this, if one stands on a stranded platform, and look around to find a unique subtlety of homogeneity, then that one is surely breathing!

Bandra, for some, beams a blend of colonial essence, metropolitan charm, Christian heritage and modernity. But one of the biggest contributors to this melting pot is the ladies of this town. They were always different, no doubt why British navy cadets found them enticing. These blue-eyed boys' entire holiday used to be spent on approaching and propositioning or plain sight-seeing. Some even went on to never miss the damsels back home! This has nothing to assert that Bandra is a Greek city or aught but it has something else to unfold. This town has always created something new or kept something old as it is. If the stones and walls are worth studying then the women of this town are worth admiring for their gusto uprightness and bubbly zest. They always had this unique way of displaying nonchalance at the most testing time. To an outsider, they always seemed unattached to the ethos of general perception of Indian women who generally show raw emotions with easiest guile. Apparently, some yonder ago, some of these ladies were perceived as imitators of 'memsahibs'! But then, every nuance of admiration was persecuted and slowly we saw Mumbai assimilate every chapter into a grand opus.

These women alighting from trains are teachers, lawyers, designers, secretaries and some housemakers cum officer-goers. The face they carry may not bear the actual flawless grace of colonial era but then this city of ours can wipe any line out and draw any line in, yet their audacity to be so enchanting can't be overlooked. And if peered closer, then you may not miss that smirk which tells how proud they are, to be a part of this happening town and would give up anywhere to stay in here. Moreover, we can easily get the family branch of a matriarchal society quite easily due to the families' reluctance to shift somewhere else.

These women do gossip like anyone else, they too feel the pain of traveling and they too cry in front of TV soaps yet they are different, kind of edgy when it comes to civility. They are the answer to Mumbai's call for absolute metropolis. We will be numb minded enough to ask the 'others' to put up a similar demeanor. That won't happen and even if it does, it would be nothing short of failed trial. Some may find this argument haughty but any other girl or lady, if comes out and try her best, whatever, she'll surely stand corrected. No wonder, why all the people think that even an office going lady might be rich at banks!

As realty booms here, so are the working women's purse and they surely know where to head for a good buy. Be it an estate or a simple garment, they'll do it with utmost refinement. Money doesn't raise a question of choice and they do get the best stuff, be it in a designer showroom or on Band Stand. They don't need their boyfriends or hubbies to accompany them, but then which girl wants to be disturbed. They are no fool with money and that shows in their investment in stocks and how they are actively covering market stats. Life is great, though earned to be that great but if holiday is a perk then Bandra 'naris' know how to harvest it and no way, are they going to spend it watching stupid TV shows or DVDs. Time is to head for relaxing spas and more reinvigorating Botox clubs!

Some may argue that all kitties are the same when it comes to luxury, unrestricted but Bandra ladies have a unique way to do it and they won't be sharing it on a cheap chat.

Now-a-days, the newer crops of small girls who are the genuine torch-bearers of their legendary task of novelty are mixing up with lost identities. That's inter-globalization, if that could be the term. They are quite aware of road side Romeos and they may not know how Bandra got to be the centre stage of exhibitive beauty and grace. These teens are metro in outlook and don't incline to any particular school of thoughts. Anyways, they are not having any cadets looking around the town, aboard on the naval bus. Some things are always appreciative in history and can't be re-distilled in presence but many can still concur to the fact that Bandra is what Bandra was.

A story of a famous waiter

He was born in 1947, a few months before we attained independence. My granny used to say he was all white like milk but weak when he was born and had this rosy lips that was later talk of the village. He grew up to be 14th child of my grandparents and the progeny ultimately ended at 18th child. Unfortunately, only 7 offspring saw more than 10 years of life. That was mainly blamed on poor nutritional value and foreboding.

My dad was named Sunder which meant "beautiful" appropriately. He was a sincere boy and used to do all the chores as expected and very naive too, unlike his elder brothers. Many a times, it so happened that he was the one sleeping empty stomach while the younger siblings got rice. He attended school but complemented it with household and farming errands like collecting dungs, drawing well water and et al. He seemed to enjoy these hard work to flipping pages of book. Apparently, he left school at the age of 13 after attending his mid-term exams which he, no doubt must have failed, owing to poor attendance which was mainly due to his dad's failing health and demanding need of people at farm. My grandpa had better things laid out for him. At least he thought it was so. He left school, now he left the village and set out for Bombay.

He landed on Bombay in the year 1960 and this was the period of conspicuous panic and turmoil since Bombay was drafted to its minimal boundary and Maharashtra and Gujrat was drawn on lingual basis. No doubt, there were some linguist and regional tensions going on then. He spend his initial one month wandering from one place to another with hardly anything to lean on. He did menial jobs, earned too little to save and slept on jutecloth sacks. He once told me that he was given Rs. 13 by his father while leaving his native and half of it was spent on travelling.

This gloomy period was soon to end as one day, he was spotted by this Gujrati-speaking Parsi rich and was given table-cleaner's job at a small bistro-like place. He is still grateful of that one touch of kindness that provided him proper mat for sleeping and ample water to wash. This continued for about a year or so when suddenly he got a note from his brother who had got himself a job in Pune. My dad was earnestly sent for to fill up vacancy there. Without any second thoughts, he escaped. He had to escape because he knew that he was now quite an asset to the working place and won't be let off with ease.

He arrived in Pune in the summer of 1962. Pune wasn't anything like it is now. It was rather dull and wildly empty to say. But my dad was more than happy to be there in comparison to Bombay as he was homesick and wanted someone from his family to behold. So he got this job, again as a table-cleaner at a small hotel run by some Mr. Nayak. He worked there and was "promoted" to water boy and this went on for less than a year when he was asked to fill in for some waiter who was absent. Dad impressed all with his serving skill and memory. Now, there wasn't any need of a genius in a hotel and neither my dad was one but its a tradition in an Udupi Hotel for a waiter not to write down the orders and to serve all the orders mentally without any note to remind. He did superb and it stayed on like that for good long time.

Now, by the year 1966, he realized that Bombay was a better option because he wanted to do something else with his life, something in business, for option. So he left Pune and headed to Bombay again. Here once again, he donned the role of waiter at a place called Madras Cafe which was in King's Circle. This joint was quite renowned and was a daily pilgrimage for students and teachers from nearby campus. He was quickly took a liking to by all and girls in particular, if my uncles are to be believed. They even say some of them were deadpan smitten by him that they even proposed! My dad, being the person he is, still undermines this anecdotes. But he did said once that there was this girl studying at Khalsa College who was in awe of his eyebrows and she always used to wait for his table to get empty so that she can get his service. Bizarre but my dad had other plans and wasn't keen on romance with nubile wealthy students. He worked there for five years and remembers serving today's superstar Akshay Kumar who was a student then at nearby place and used to take lunch at his place regularly.

In early 1972, he was asked by the owner of Madras Cafe, Mr. Shetty to transfer his service to Saroj Hotel which was located at Chembur. He couldn't say no though he was a bit disappointed considering the camaraderie you strike with most of the customers there. He left and joined Saroj Hotel and was again blowing off competition, if any, with his dedication and hard work. He was good looking, better with four plates on his hand, moved swiftly, talked softly and was good with numbers too. This all helped him again to establish genial relationships with customers. He remained a waiter at Saroj till 1996. Then one day, he was asked by Mr. Shetty's son, Rohit to work as a manager. Considering his time as a waiter for almost 35 years, this step was inevitable.

He was made third manager since there were already two working since long time. Dad was assigned with stuff related to banks, accounts, Municipal clearings, taxes which required him talking with bigshots and he was clearly a charming personality to chat and discuss. He was accepted into the fold of managerial clan. It wasn't all easy coz most of the times customers were awestruck to see him in formals roaming the corridors looking out for customer satisfaction and proper disposal of service. Some old customers haven't seen him before in anything other than formal uniform topped by a traditional waiter's cap. But his run continued with a demeanor which made him one of the famous person on the streets of Chembur and even struck a chord with innumerable faceless customers that he met and made sure to leave a etch on.

This story seems all rosy and colorful but it wasn't always so. My dad is and was a reasonable man with virtuous lining but he too wanted to do good. so he tried other avenues of success. He once opened a pan-shop in Mazgaon Dock area which was later usurped by his dear brother, fraudulently. My dad, even to this day has no malice in his heart for this treachery. He earned fine money due to the kind tipping gestures of his customers. He made records with quick serving and multitasking tables. He was sort of a legend of his own.

Today, he is 62 and wishing to retire off in the quiet of his native. He is still working though his pension is up. He still feels that working as a waiter was something more fulfilling coz it had nuances of customers attached immediately to the whole process. He still remember the great doyen of CINEMA, Mr. Raj Kapoor who was a regular customer owing to the presence of R.K. Studio in vicinity, who according to my dad, was a big niggard, unlike his siblings who were a bit too "noble".

My dad always used to say when i was a kid that he didn't want me to be a waiter and that's the reason why he's working double shifts to fill up expense. He was unfazed by his goodness and that's quite unique considering the tag we attach to someone who is good and then ruin his goodness to capital assessment. My dad didn't wished for fame nor did he got one, but he lived a life of memory where people recognize him for his kind way with them. Happy B'day Pa.

Why are we sad?

Every morning i wake up, i realize my face getting old every single time. May be, I'm dreaming even after splashing water on face. I always felt a bit more odd being in crowd but now-a-days its odder staring at my own self. Either I'm moving myself towards something they call crisis or may be, I'm just meant to be this stupid. Failure doesn't make you a loser. Failure teaches you, enriches you and makes you more competent. I have not failed. That has solely to do with the fact that i haven't tried much in my recent life either.

Leaving engineering was the single biggest thing i did and i'm not much proud of it or ashamed coz i believe that we are cut out for certain purposes and if we don't oblige by that call of duty then we are doomed to remorse all through. I know that writing and teaching is my passion and i'll have to give it a head start from the grass root approach. Wasting a good seven years of your life in pursuit of engineering glory and then suddenly waking up someday to acknowledge this propensity, this strong urge of not doing something that i was so used to. Attending classes but getting lost in reverie of untold and unbounded adventure, free life and lores of hedonistic vindication.

Right now, i have the whole world in front of me and all i have to do is embrace it and get along. this is one option. The other one is to stay coherent to my grammar of understanding and illogical rationality that has encapsulated me for a very long time and designs to do so for upcoming life. Living is not existing and if i decide whether i want to go ahead with this literature and cinema thing and try something out for myself in this huge void of anonymity.

My dysfunctional family got a wrong boost with my failure in asserting my stand on my chosen career and of course, laziness too. They could have been kinder had i been a bit more sincere and adequate with common sense. Whatever be the consequences, we all learn, we err, we fall and fail and win and hail.... we all survive.

Life of his own

He knew not how to sin
or how to break hearts in twain
all he did was spoke his mind
and left the devil to win,

he went alone in and deep
he cried but laughing was his meat
enjoyed the voice of shreking smile
rather than stay calm as clam,

he rose with the sun
and slept with the moon,
toiled with the breeze
and sweat in the noon

he was not what folks made
he stood for right and plain
had no reason to do otherwise
he told no truth, he told no lies,

he was well aware of death
and all the reasons it takes
but still he wanted to do his best
to keep his chin up while he's dead.

Truth spoke last night

A wind of change whistled quietly
adjusting itself around the hurdles
nothing came in between
no one called to stop it
all went swept and strayed
it doesn't happen very often
but the way it did was strange
people shook themselves up
talked aloud and made a vow to change
it was then when we heard
something being said, something being done,
something for the good,
something for the love,
something for the kids
this wind changed to a storm very soon
and roared in its full rage
all were awakened, some from laze,
some from silence and some for grace,
it was a sight to behold,
it doesn't happen every day,
when people come out to see air
and find its voice in their ears,
while hope gives way to life,
and makes its presence felt,
that goodness prevails even today
and pain make hearts melt,
no one would forget such a sight
whne truth spoke last night.

Change is here

Speak up now, now itself
get up before we fall,
go on and make this move
if we don't stand up now
who'll speak up for you
who'll change lost course
either in verse or in prose
where will the flocks unite
killed, gagged with empty sight
when are we to let kids grow
along with peace, trust uphold
who is the one to raise his hand
ask his questions and clear his mind
for those causes of lonely theft,
under this strange voice left behind
where rich get richer and poorer die
hopeless eyes and dried lies,
where are those causing distress,
where are those leader's impact,
waited too much, too much for a life,
lets get up and move each and all
before our people die and fall!

Bests among the rest

The best of minds may not be slated on the first bench,
just like the best criminals are not found in a cornered prison,
the best of musicians might be busking under a dirty bridge,
the best of writers may have a weak pen,
the best director could be well walking around with a handycam,
the best of hope may fall in a beggar's bowl
the best of footballer may not have a boot to spare,
the best of sages may be in the deepest cave,
the best of all singers may be hiding in his bathroom,
the best of teacher could be the one using the least of rod and more of eyes,
the best of trancriber might be sleeping while the audio loads on,
the best of lawyer may not have swindled many,
the best of driver may not have driven downhill,
the best of GOD may not have seen Earth at all,
the best of artist may not even know his masterpiece,
the best of love may not have touched you yet,
the best of confusion may be created out of calm,
the best of friend may not be in the crowd,
the best of words may be waiting for silence to occur,
the best of food may not conquer your hunger,
the best of nectar might not have been in those bosom,
the best of engineers may not be a foreign stickler,
the best of Indians might have not taken birth in India,
the best of doctor might be drinking well water,
the best of snaps might have never seen the studio's darkness,
the best of questions may not require the best of answers,
the best of best may not be best anymore, any less!