A passage through cultures

One fine evening in the month of September last year, I was traveling from South Bombay towards the suburbs. Little did I know, that this seemingly innocuous journey would take me through the cultural potpourri we all call Bombay.

I'd always known that India is the land of festivals. But, I realized its true meaning on this fateful day. The revelation began as soon as my cab entered Dadar. I suddenly found myself mesmerized by the beautiful sight of people dressed in their colorful fineries, carrying huge idols of Lord Ganesha and singing "Ganapati Bappa Morya, Purchya Varshi Laukariya" which means *Lord Ganesha, come again early next year*. The whole atmosphere was charged up with the beating of the drums and people dancing around. Ganesha Chathurti is a Hindu festival which is celebrated over 10 days with lot of fervor, enthusiasm, devotion and fanfare. People believe that during this period Lord Ganesha descends from the heavens to visit them. On the 11th day the idol of the beloved Ganpati is immersed in sea, symbolizing farewell for his return journey to heaven.

I was still reeling under the captivating smell of jasmines & marigolds and the delightful sight of colors & celebrations, when I reached Mahim. Here I heard the Maulavi's call from the mosque to the faithful Muslims for praying and breaking their day long fast. Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar which is considered holy. The Muslims observe fast from dawn to dusk for 30 days, at the end of which, they celebrate Eid ul-Fitr. The food jaunts on both sides of the road were filled with people who were about to have their first glass of water and first meal called as Iftar. Being a vegetarian, I could not appreciate the smell and sight of the non-vegetarian delicacies. But I was happy to see the excited kids running around and the calm, peaceful faces of the devoted elders getting ready for their night long celebrations.

My spiritual journey continued as I finally entered Bandra. Here another kind of faith was waiting to be embraced. In Bandra, situated near the sea, is the Basilica of Our Lady of Mount Mary. There was a festive mood at the week long Bandra fair where people of all faiths had come to seek blessings of Mother Mary and revel in the heady atmosphere. Mother Mary is revered for her powers to heal the sick and grant wishes. For the Marathi speaking community she is "Math Mauli".

As my cab pulled out of Bandra, I found myself exalted by the cultural concoction I had just witnessed. Three adjoining areas, three stations of a local train and three worlds. The whole experience was so enthralling that it has stayed with me for over a year now.

Well, as they say, it can happen only in Aamchi Mumbai!

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A Divine Encounter

A few days back, standing in a line at the passport office, waiting for my turn to get an ECNR stamp on my passport, I became a believer in god and a babu-fearing mere mortal. The lady at the counter seemed no less than an avatar of a goddess , a force which could give me moksh in the form of a stamp. This was my first visit to this shrine (passport office). I was warned that it was impossible to please the goddess with just one offering and that I would have to visit many times before she would even look at my documents. Still I was optimistic, miracles do happen in real life. I was happy that after standing there for 3 hours (7.30 to 10.30 - when the shrine actually opens) finally I could get darshan. I saw the queue in front moving fast. But as I was approaching the counter I realized that the goddess is in no mood to grant wishes today. She was rejecting the forms with the speed of lightning. My happiness gave way to nervousness and fear. I had taken an off from work, got up at 5.30 and travelled in a local train to reach the shrine. Earlier I was confident about my meticulousness, but now I was afraid that I may have missed out on some document. Finally it was my turn to give my form. My hands were shaking and I was sweating. With a lot of difficulty I took out the papers from my file and offered them to the goddess. I had missed out a few details on my application, which very politely (surprisingly) she asked me to fill in. I regained my positive thinking... but alas ! it was to last for less than 10 secs, because, one fleeting glance at my documents and she told me that "you don't have the Xth class passing certificate". I was crest fallen. I told her that I have all the mark-sheets from Xth till PG to prove that I am an educated Xth pass female. But she would have none of it. My humble offerings just didn't seemed to appease to her holiness. My mind became numb, still I gathered some strength, but no, I could not garner the courage to question her for the fear of offending her. I simply collected my documents, stepped away from the window and tried hopelessly to pull myself together. I called my friend who was waiting outside to give him the bad news. Hearing my almost sobbing voice, he forgot his pain (he too got up early and took off from work) and consoled me "don't worry, we will come better prepared next time. Before the next visit to the shrine pray to god every morning and fast on Mon,Wed and Fri..."

I hope my penance will bear the fruit & I shall one day see an ECNR stamp on my passport....but alas! when will that day come!!!

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A Love Triangle...

This is no ordinary love triangle. Its the love between the three most striking identities of Mumbai. Let me introduce the characters -

1. Congested roads of Mumbai (ugly like a Bollywood heroine sans make up)
2. Traffic (the spoilt rich brat hero)
3. Beggars and poor migrants (incapacitated, poor, frail second hero)

Now their love story goes like this...

Roads of Mumbai, like a good Indian heroine are silent, taken for granted, abused, not or under paid and get botchy patchwork maintainence done (poor nose jobs like Koena Mitra's).
Traffic (which actually meant movement of goods before it was used in the context of humans) consists of cars, two-wheelers, auto-rickshaws, BEST buses etc.

"Rich people" sit in their ac cars and look down on two-wheeler riders (who swish swash between lanes) and rickshaws (which are like cockroaches on road). Buses still are given certain forced respect out of a fear of their sheer size. Rich are worried that Rs.1 lac car Nano will increase the traffic and it would be impossible to drive their BMWs,Mercedes' and Ferrraris on the ever congested roads ( as it is I don't understand how people can abuse these lovely cars on Mumbai roads, its a shame to drive these beauties at 20km/hr) .

Then of course, we have the beggars and poor migrants who seem to occupy each and every inch of available space - foot paths, dividers, under flyovers etc. Its appalling to see them sleeping with their kids between the narrow dividers. Their whole house; living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom is confined in the 1.5-2 feet gap. But they sleep so peacefully in spite of all the noise and pollution ( I was surprised to know that some rickshaw drivers use kerosene as fuel )

Now I am sure many of us would have thought about this many a times... When a beggar approaches us, whether we are sitting in a car or a rick, we tend to look away or behave as if we cant see him or hear him. Are we ashamed of facing him ? May be, but mostly we tell ourselves that giving him money would encourage people to beg. Let me tell you...this is just a way to placate our conscience and absolve us of any passing guilt.

Stuck in a traffic jam for 2-3 hrs everyday on congested Mumbai roads, sitting in a car, looking down upon two and three wheelers, shying away from poor kids who are begging... I feel that I am shamelessly enjoying or at least passively watching this love triangle everyday....

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