Mumbai, India

Amchi Mumbai (Our Bombay)

Bombay has become Mumbai, just as Victoria Terminus (VT) has become Chatrapati Sivaji Terminus (CST), Flora Fountain has become Hutatma chowk and many others. Yet you can still buy a ticket to VT, ask your way to Fountain and you will be guided properly by any Tom, Dick and Harry on the road.

Bombay is a metropolitan city where hundreds of languages and dialects mix with the typical Bombaiyya language which is unique to any one else in the country. Where else would you find the poorest of the poor rubbing shoulders with the richest of the rich? Where the worst slums in Asia (Dharavi slum) exist with the Tinsel town of Bollywood? Where Shabana Azmi, Hema Malini, Aishwarya Rai and other film stars have enough causes to fight for, enough poverty and sick people to look after?

It is Bombay that hosts the most attended cricket matches, programs by Michael Jackson and others, yet has the worst clashes ever. Communal clashes, bomb blasts, accidents, murders and the like.
People from Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Tamil Nadu (states of India) make their way to Bombay to eke out a living and succeed. It is the place where the Udipi idli vada sambhar and masala dosa have equal rights and importance as the local vada-pav and missal, where restaurants catering to every taste and pocket are within shouting distance from any area, where box type flats rise up high in the skies.

Bombay is the place where the lifelines of public transport spew out millions during the rush hours. While there is not even breathing space on the western railway trains, people still laugh, play cards, sing bhajans, do shopping and discuss politics, films and television. At every station the trains vomit out hundreds and suck in double the number, all within ten to fifteen seconds. It is the place where bus conductors give the exact change and remember faces which paid them a hundred bucks for a eleven rupee ticket some fifteen stops earlier, where people are friendly, offering seats to pregnant ladies and the disabled, yet fighting over seats reserved for women.

Bombay is unique, it is changing all the time yet remains the same. The Queen’s necklace at Marine Drive in South Bombay might be age old, yet the latest string of lovely lights on the Palm Beach road in Navi Mumbai cannot overshadow it. The Hanging gardens, the Nehru Planetarium, the Museum, the Gateway of India with the Elephanta caves across the sea, the beaches are age old tourist attractions and the Expressway to Pune is a marvel across the Western ghats-that is Bomaby, amchi Mumbai.

The local people are unique also. They may turn a blind eye to the happenings in the neighborhood, yet may extend a helping hand to a total stranger on the road. They may live in a one room chawl but have the latest mobile, the latest television set and the most modern car. They may dress well, may never have gone to school yet have the knowledge and the accent in English of the most polished person. They may fight over reservations, yet be broadminded as to want equal rights in everything. They may flock to see the latest film ,yet do not hesitate to create a ruckus at the slightest provocation in it.

Bombay is Bombay, no other place can replace it or live up to it. It is a city of contrasts, of excitement, of opportunity and of teeming millions. Yet it is amchi Mumbai, our Bombay.

Having lived in Mumbai in India for almost half my age I had got immune to its beauty. Mumbai, for me, was a long queue for everything, a rush for the 9.32 local train or a scamper for the bus. Recently my brother’s family and myself decided to see Mumbai and took a Mumbai Darshan tour.

Believe me, I have never enjoyed traveling and sight seeing so much. Despite the sweltering heat which made us drink gallons of water, cold drinks and fruit juices, I really enjoyed seeing the animals at Jijmata Udhyan (zoo). While the Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal hotels merely merited a glance in our opinion, since we had seen them so many times), it was the boat ride that really excited me. Tying the bright orange life jacket and jumping into the rocking boat was itself an adventure. And when the boat took us scampering over the grey waters of the Arabian sea and spraying us with salty droplets, we just sat back, relaxed and enjoyed ourselves. This was another sight of Mumbai that we were seeing. Far, far away from the drab office going routine which had captured us firmly all these years.

Though we were tired, hot and dusty we relaxed in the Nehru Planetarium, craning our necks to see the dome sky above us. The commentary almost lulled us to sleep as we are all science students fully aware of what it was all about.

When the tour culminated at the beautiful Hare Rama Hare Krishna temple at Juhu, after dousing ourselves with pani puri ( an Indian fast food snack) at the beach, we felt our cup of satisfaction was full. Never had Mumbai looked so beautiful, so alluring. At last we knew why the masses of rural people wanted to come to Mumbai.We forgot the crowds, the heat and the dust as we worshipped the marble statues and the temple reverberated to the chanting and the drummer’s beat of the enthusiastic sadhus, most of them young and white.

Mumbai, we can never get tired of seeing your many faces.

Veena A

Submitted: Thursday 18th March 2004, 10:59 PM

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