No-one killed Arushi Talwar

Earlier it was Jessica and now it is Arushi.
Now that the ghost of Arushi is haunting the courts again, the media is abuzz!
I am watching Star News and a bearded anchor with oiled hair tied into a pony tail is screaming and making vehment hand gestures.

The media seems to at a loss to decide which is the largest murder mystery (who the hell is interested in knowing it!) of the country.

CBI is clueless on who killed Arushi.

I am speechless!

Live from the Indian Railways

I am on my first client visit as a "consultant". And, as a part of this client visit I am on a train to Ambikapur, a town in Surguja District of Chhattisgarh.
It has happened for the first time that I am web-enabled while being on-the-move.
What an obscure location and occassion for the inaugral post for 2011.

Though I would love to talk about the behaviourial traits being  demostrated by the employees of my client, rhe professional protocol prohibits me from doing so (I would love to discuss this off-line though). So, the next best option available to me is my co-passengers (Oh! I love 'bitching').

Seated (now asleep) in the coupe right in front of me is a political leader of sorts, a Dada Bhai. A quintessential politicial. I suppose he is an MLA, worse he could even be a MP. He is traveling with his convoy of yes-men. If you were to believe him, the country is being fed to the Dogs and a 'madhyavarti chunav' is right around the corner. The Bhartiya Janta Party, whose NDA has swept the Bihar elections, will come up with a charismatic leader (magically??) and come back in power. Man! he must have been day dreaming. Even the great Arun Jaitley isn't sure who the next leader is going to be!

My mind has now wandered to a copy of The Outlook which I bought at the Raipur railway station. It has a couple of interesting articles. Ms. Mamta Banerjee has left no stone unturned to get the mighty Indian Railways back in the red (or was it that Lalu had cooked another scam during his tenure?) and is now eyeing the West Bengal elections. Rumours are rife that didi will quit the portfolio to take charge of WB politics where Trinamul Congress supposedly has high chances of winning; but not before she has announced a yet another populist budget for her vote bank.

The Outlook also has an article on the Egypt crisis. Oh! I am loving it so much. No, it has got nothing to do with the region. It is this one person who happened to be my client at my previous employer. He was from Egypt and his reports always had a positive outlook (Oh yeah! am flaunting that I was once an 'Equity Research Analyst') on the country. Middle East needs a correction in valuation, and yes I intend a pun on 'valuation'.

And now that I've laid out the sheets and am securing my luggage, I ask one of the personnels from the client's "Theft - weft ka to koi chakkar nahin hai na" and no brownie point for guessing his reply.
He has prompltly replied,"Take your chaces".

I've packed my Puma shoes in a brown paper bag and kept them alongside my (side upper) berth; just as I've kept the rest of my luggage.

Signing Off!!

Oye! Lucky! Lucky! Oye!

No, This post is not about the movie or its inspiration.
It is about how I feel each time I cross someone who makes me feel lucky that I am not in his/her shoes.

Everyday when I climb the steps of the Kanjurmarg Station, I wish that beggar-woman, with a child in bandages, on the staircase would just vanish and her wails would just die out. Even as I stand at the platform waiting for my train, my ears can hear her cries as a distant din. I try to ignore it and pretend as if I am deaf. I am relieved that I haven't seen her in the past few days. I don't know what has happened to her. Hope it's something good.

When I reach Dadar, there inevitably is another beggar, a crippled one, sitting right in between the crowded foot-over-bridge. Sometimes I drop in change to him.

Day-in-and-day-out I see fellow commuters with some disability or the other. Who knows how many people out there in the world are sufferening - silently going on with their routine.

Then, comes the thought of those living on daily wages or doing all sort of obscure jobs for a living.

These sights and thoughts make me feel so blessed and lucky and I often say a small prayer to the good Lord watching us from up above - for the well being of the under privledged and for giving me such a beautiful life.

I feel blessed to have a family, a home, friends, good education, a respectable job (not that others' aren't) and an easy life.

And it makes all those other complaints of being underpaid and over worked just vanish.

Travails of travelling

You know that you are a regular Mumbai Local Train Commuter when:
1) You start recognizing other commuters
2) You start ignoring that ailing beggar whom you see daily on the stairs
3) You have the timetable stored on your phone memory
4) Your facebook status message is the latest railway announcement
5) You feel sad and disturbed (and yet you don't help) when you see a handicapped person travelling all by herself. And, you thank the Lord for what he has given you.
6) You know what 'jalad' means
7) You look out of the window to have a quick glance at the ruins of an old factory your train crosses-by daily
8) You are not flustered by the oily heads and sweaty hands. OK! Sometimes you ARE!
9) You carry a deodorant and a comb with you.
10) You know how to push yourself in and out a train with ease. Yeah Yeah, I know. Not Always!
11) You become apathetic to people around you.
12) You know where the First Class bogey will halt.
13) You know the train route by heart.
14) You have developed the skill to sleep while standing
15) You start tapping your feet to the tunes of a crappy 90's Bollywood number being played on someone's cell phone.
16) You have witnessed at least one cat-fight between the commuters in each week of your travel.
17) You know to which side the next station's platform will be
18) You have a monthly or a quarterly season ticket.
19) You start preferring a train over a more comfortable taxi ride in the peak hour.
20) You can recognise the face of the vendor selling 'pass covers' and ball pens outside the station.

The Smart Taxiwallah

Today morning I got a pleasant surprise.
I was struggling on the road outside Dadar Station to catch a cab to my office at Shivaji Park. None of the drivers were ready to go as I did not have a change of fifty (it's a minimum fare from Dadar (W) to Shivaji Park). So, in all the desperation that I had to take a cab to work, I bought a bottled of packaged water to get myself a change of cash.
And as I turned back, I saw a vacant Taxi approaching. I showed out my hand and it stopped. Even before I could complete saying "Shivaji Park", the cabbie said it.
This was followed by the following monologue from him:
"Aapke kapdon pe likha hai aapko Shivaji Park jana hai.
Aapke bag pe likha hai.
Aapke chashme pe likha hai.
Aapke to poore chahre se tapak raha hai Shivaji Park, Mayor Bunglow, Veer Savarkar Trust"

I couldn't help but laugh with him and admire his friendliness.

He went on to tell me how he daily watches so many of my fellow office colleagues lined up on this road and often drops them (and amuses them with his banter).

He even knew the best route.

It surely was a good start to a mundane Monday!

Kankar Pathar Jor Kar....

Ayodhya was all over the place today.

It was there on the street in the form of Police bandobast; it was there on the internet with Nirmohi Akhada becoming the most Googled term for the day; it was there on office desks with me and my desk neighbour discussing if a 'Ram Rahim Hospital' at the disputed site would be a plausible solution; it was there on the media with Barkha Datt conducting a debate and instigating the masses to create an issue out of a closed matter (i.e. after the verdict was out); it was there on the office emails with advisories to leave work early; it was there in my mind in the form of the lines from a famous song 'mazhab nahin sikhata, aapas mein bair rakhna'; it was there in the courts in the form of a verdict from the High Court of Allahabad.

After a day full of religious brouhaha, I am reminded of these couplets by Kabir

कांकर पाथर जोर के, मस्जिद लिया चुनाय।
ता चढ़ि मुल्ला बांग दे, क्या बहरा हुआ खुदाय?

माला फेरत जुग भया, फिरा न मन का फेर ।
कर का मन का डार दे, मन का मनका फेर ॥

मोको कहाँ ढूंढे रे बन्दे,
मैं तो तेरे पास में
ना तीरथ में
ना मूरत में
ना एकांत निवास में
ना मन्दिर में , ना मस्जिद में
ना काबे कैलास में
ना मैं जप में , ना मैं तप में
ना मैं बरत उपवास में
ना मैं किरिया करम में रहता
न ही जोग सन्यास में
न ही प्राण में न ही पिंड में
ना ब्रह्माण्ड अकास में
ना मैं प्रकुति प्रवर गुफा में
न ही स्वसन की स्वांस में
खोजी होए तुरत मिल जाऊं
इक पल की तलास में
कहत कबीर सुनो भाई साधो
मैं तो हूँ विस्वास में.

From Mumbaiya to Dilli-wallah

The clock is ticking for me. Come November, and I will cease to be a Mumbaikar, a Mumbaiya. I will become a Dilli wallah.Rather, a Faridabad wallah - Resident of a sleepy town in NCR.
The transformation will be drastic and no less than a culture shock.

From traffic jams on roads to no roads
From rains to winters
From Hiranandani Gardens to Sector markets
From local to cabs
From Marathi to Punjabi
From Vada Pao and Pao Bhaji to Pakoras and Kadhai Paneer
From Powai Lake to what-once-used-to-be Badkhal
From Lonavala to Mussourie
From International airport to no-good railway station
From friends to family
From Single to Married
From House to Home

Why do I write?

This ain't a famous blog. There hardly is any audience to my posts. Yet, I write. And I write quite regularly, except for those moments when I am very happy or very depressed (and don't have time or don't feel like writing).

I write because I just love to see how simple sentences take form of a big paragraph. How my thoughts translate to words. And to my amazement, many-a-times, when I read my own writitings, I feel good.

I developed interest in writing in my Tenth grade. I used to love 'Interact in English' course. The notices, advertisements and memos used to be tests of my creativity. And this love for words stayed on.

So I write. Mindlessly. Aimlessly. And for no audience.

I write for myself!

Headlines for Today

I woke up a little late today. It’s a holiday - Anant Chaturdashi – the day people bid farewell to their beloved lord Ganesha. It will be a big chaos on the roads outside my house.

I am looking at the newspaper. There is chaos all around, it seems.
The headlines are interesting.

Commonwealth Games National Shame: A Bridge has collapsed at the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium.
The anchor of a news channel is reading out ‘Breaking News’. A portion of false ceiling has collapsed over the play area.

World heaps scorn on filthy village: TOI has ‘stunned’ the country with its lead story, it seems, on how filthy the games village is. Leading athletes are pulling out their names.

Aussie TV crew enters venue with ammo case: An Australian channel has done a sting operation (who says only Tehelka held the copyrights to ‘stinging’) and managed to sneak in an ammunition case, heightening security concerns.

I am ashamed. And so are millions of Indians watching the events unfold.

It is such an irony. Ganesha is the ‘Lord of Beginning’ and the ‘Remover of Obstacles’. Guess, he is not a ‘lord of anticorruption’. Guess, there is NO such lord.

I hope some divine soul helps our ministers and babus.
May Suresh Kalmadi and Ms. Dixit be blessed!
Its the country's reputation which is at stake.
Someone please wake up!!

Being Quintessentially Indian

Many things come to my mind when I think of the quintessential Indian way of life. Things that could happen only on this homeland of ours. Things that are a matter of pride, and things that are a matter of shame. Things that are commonplace in the so-called 'middle class'.

Did you just ask Kaun Middle Class?? Arey, They are the ones who are neither poor enough to be called lower class and nor rich enough to be termed the Upper Class. So they hang precariously somewhere in the middle!

My list follows. Feel free to make your additions.
Drying clothes on a clothesline outside your balcony
Borrowing lemons and sugar from your neighbour (but never the salt!)
Bowing down to touch the feet of elderly, even your room-mates parents when you don't even know them or are meeting them for the first time
A grand wedding
Savings under the National Savings Certificate Scheme in the Post Offfice
Small car, high on mileage (remember the kitna deti hai advertisement of Maruti)
An entire family on a two wheeler - Miya Biwi Bachon Samet
Toddlers reciting nursery rhymes to guests
Living rooms with vases full of dusty arificial flowers and souviners
A doting mother who is a housewife (and has full potential to be a corporate manager)
A penny-wise father who never shops for himself
A BSNL landline
Garib Rath
The dream to buy a sedan and a real estate property
A maid who is unreliable
A liftman and a security guard
A dhobi, doodhwala & maali
Family unions on Diwali & Holi (and may be on Christmas, New Year and Eid)
Haggling with a vegetable vendor for the best price
Haggling with a retail shop vendor for the best price
An IRCTC website login
A lohe ki kadhai and tawa
A relative in the US of A
A job in MNC
A job with the Government
A dream to be an IAS officer (or an IPS or IFS or IES)
An eye on the stock market
An arranged marriage
A Shah Rukh Khan movie
A Zeenat Aman (and a Rakhi Sawant)
A joint family
A nuclear family
A loving sister
A caring brother
A caring wife
A loving husband
A nagging wife
A questioning husband
A mister and his misus

And..... ek packet ummeed!

Secrets of Mumbai

In my more than two years' stay in Mumbai I have discovered many treasures which I think are unique to this city. They are not necessarily places/monuments but are rather means to derive small joys in this otherwise fast life in a metro.

A non-exhaustive list, in no order of preference, follows.

Food
Sandwiches at Sukh Sagar across the VT subway
Green Chilly ice-cream at Bachelor's, Girgaum Chowpaty
Cafe Churchil's Spinach and Corn Lasagne
Pastries at Theobroma in Colaba
Authentic Punjabi cuisine at Papa Pancho da Dhaba, Bandra (Must tries: Chaat & Stuffed Parathas. Don;t forget to ask for their amazingly fresh white butter)
Coffee at Cafe Sea Side, Bandstand (The menu is rather short and food quality not up to the mark. The place offers an amazing view of the sun setting in the Arabian Sea.)
Thali at Rajdhani
Cafe Mondegar and Leopold in Colaba
Pao Bhaji at Amar Juice Centre, Irla
Kulfi, Pao Bhaji, Pani Puri, Gola at Juhu and Girgaum Chowpatty
South Indian cuisine at Mani's Lunch Home, Matunga
Dosa at Babulnath Dosa Centre
Gulabjamuns at Sweet Bengal, Maker Arcade, Cuffe Parade
Dal Makhni and Stuffed Parathas at Happy Singh, Sakinaka
Chinese food at 5 Spice, Sakinaka, Fort and Pali Naka (Bandra)
Misal Pao at any road-side stall/restaurant
USS Club in Navy Nagar (entry only to defense personnels)
Chhas in a beer bottle at Bhagat Tarachand in Kalbadevi
Flavoured teas at Aromas, Hiranandani Gardens, Powai

Monuments
Victoria Terminus
Deutche Bank building in Fort area
Mumbai High Court
Rajabai Clock Tower, Mumbai University
Brihanmumbai Mahanagarpalika Building
St. Xaviers College, VT
Flora Fountain
Horniman Circle
Library of the Asiatic Society
Bombay Stock Exchange (a modern age monument indeed. This is where the address reads Dalal Street, Mumbai - 400 001)
Gateway of India

Galleries
Prince of Wales Museum (now called, the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya)
National Gallery of Modern Art
Jehangir Art Gallery (and the roadside art gallery)

Festivals
Kalaghoda Art Festival

Markets
Electronics bazaar at Lamington Road
Perfume shopping at Alfa Market, Irla
Fort Market with shops selling everything from mobile chargers and cheap electronics to accesories.
Saree shopping at Dadar (though have never done this, but have suggested it to many friends)
Handbags, antiques, belts and accesories from Colaba Causeway
Fleas market in Kalbadevi and Oshiwara
Narrow lanes of Crawford Market full of household stuff
Flower and Vegetable market of Dadar
Kolhapuri slipper shops at Bandra

Leisure
Plays at Prithvi Theatre, followed by coffee and dinner at Prithvi Cafe
Walk on the Marine Drive (or a late night chat session with cvlose friends). All the way from Nariman Point to Chowpaty.
An evening at Jogger's Park, Bandra

Spiritual
Temple trail of Sidhivinayak, Mumba Devi and Mahalakshmi
Ganesh Visarjan at Powai Lake
Iscon Temple, Juhu

Well, this is my list. Am sure you have yours too!

The 10 Rupee fix

My 7 year old rampyaari, My TVS Victor, has been a subject of my neglect very often.
The poor thing also falls victim to Mumbai Police's strategy of ever-changing no-parking areas.

Some months back, me and my colleague decided to go to the near-by Naturals Icecream Shop taking a small break from office. I parked my bike at the place where I have been parking it over the past 2 years. We had a lovely double scoop each and came out only to find the bike missing. Seeing policewallahs and a towing van on the road outside gave me the idea as to what would have happened. Needless to say, I had parked my bike at a newly identified no parking zone and it was happily towed away by the sincere Mumbai Police.

It was with much mehnat mashakkat that I could retrieve my bike. What an ordeal that was!

With this episode over, I realised my pyaari raampyaari was making a kind of gumpy sound when I raised the acceleration. First, I ignored it but then had to figire out as to which bolt was loose. To my dismay, I found that the front mud-guard (the semi cricular covering over the front wheel) had developed a big crack and was about to split into two pieces. Must have been due to the manhandling by the towing van gues, I rationalised.

While I had no intentions of buying a new mud-guard, I decided on taking it to the nearby road-side mechanic to fix it. He looked at it and happily announced that it needed a replacement. Nothing else will help. Determined to not to buy a new peice, I decided to return. As I kicked the bike to a start, this intelligent chap came up with a very ingenious idea. The chutki mein chipyae, FeviQuick! What a quick fix (the pun is indeed intended). And I must say a pretty durable one also. And the price..... Rs. 10 ONLY! That is damn damn cheap by any standards, given that a new one would have coosted me atleast Rs. 600.

I have been happily driving my bike eversince and had almost forgotten this incident.... Now that I have to transport my bike to Faridabad, I am again worried that it might lead the crack to resurface.

But then as they say, in India we have a jugaad for everything. Am pretty convinced that there will be somebody in Faridabad, ready to offer me his quick fix!

To be or not to be

We often face dilemma. At times its forced upon us. And, we feel we would have been better off if we never had choices in the first place.
Choices empower you. It is such an overwhelming experience.
They also make life miserable. While on one hand we are excited to take a stand, on the other we also dread making a wrong choice. It is like a sword hanging on you head all the time.

In the past two weeks, I have felt miserable, joyous, thrilled, depressed, confused, sorted and puzzled. All at the same time.

A while back I had made a simple choice, and I was pretty satisfied with what I had on hand. And suddenly over the last two weeks, I saw myself embroiled in this big mess which made me just go ZAP! It felt I would just throw up any moment. There seemed to be no metric which could help me make the right decision. But, there WAS NO right or left, let aside wrong. I just needed to decide.

It was one of the most important and most thought after decision I would have ever made in my life.

All thanks to certain external agents whose ethics I question, and who had put me in a position to question my ethos.

Thank God! am all sorted now.
I am at peace.

Homecoming

A friend and my ex-roommate, Nanda, returned from the US of A today for a small vacation after a gap of 6 months.
My first reaction as I entered my apartment, and saw him staring at me in my face, was - "What! You are still in the same clothes you left India in!". And the memories of the past flashed by. Happy Memories.
I could not even imagine that I was meeting him after such a long time.6 Months!

This is what Nanda is saying:
Airport se bahar atey hi maine bahar road pe construction dekha....
Arrey yeh Nile shampoo ki bottle abhi bhi shelf pe rakhi hai.
Yeh bathroom mein geyser ka switch abhi bhi rtoota hua hai.
Mujhe papad khane hain.
Mujhe to neend hi nahin aa rahi hai.
Arey yeh right hand drive.....
Main yahan pe gaadi nahin chala sakta.
Mujhe lag raha hai main mota ho gaya hoon.

Welcome home Mr NRI. Have a comfortable say. This is what I can say!

The etymology of Mumbai

Yesterday, on our way to 'The Hub' in Goregaon to watch the 10.45 PM show of the latest sci-fi "Inception", my roomie popped up a very interesting question. He asked "Ever wondered why Worli is called by that name?"; or for that matter any other place in Mumbai is called by that name?

Colaba, Mahim, Matunga, Dadar, Sion, Powai, Vashi, Virar - these are not the usual names you hear of areas in any other city. So, I thought, let me look this up and see if I can find the answer to his questions.

I found almost all my answers at this online archive of a book by Samuel T. Shephard available at this link.

But as Perry Mason would aways say - Let us begin from the beginning.

Let us begin with Mumbai.

Mumbai derives its name from the temple of Koli Goddess Mumba or Maha Amba. Aai in Marathi means mother.

Mumbai is built on an archipilago of seven islands: Bombay Island, Parel, Mazagaon, Mahim, Colaba, Worli, and Old Woman's Island (also known as Little Colaba).

Here is a brief writeup on how other parts of Mumbai got their names.

Andheri

Though I haven't come across any concrete source of information on this but quite interestingly Wiki suggests that Andheri is quite ironically derived from the name of Udaygiri hills (Bright Mountain) that houses the Mahakali Caves complex.

Antop Hill

Possibly named after a Hindu resident resident N. Antoba who possesed properties at Girgaum and Varli. Antoba (or Antob) got corrupted to Antop in English.

Crawford Market

This market was opened up by the then Municipal Commissioner of Mumbai, Arthur Travers Crawford.

Bandra

Bandra is most probably derived from the Persian word Bandar for a port. In Marathi, the word for a port is Vandre, the reason why you would often find many rickshaw-wallahs and bus conductors calling it by this name (i.e. Vandre).

Babulnath Road

This road is named after the financer of the Babulnath temple. This Shiva temple was funded by a person named Babalji Hirji Nath, thus the name Babulnath (the God of Babul)

Bhuleshwar

This place is again named after a financer of a temple. He was a rich Koli, named Bhula/Bhola/Bhulya; thus the name Bhuleshwar (the God of Bhula).

Byculla

It is said that one Sir J. Campbell coined this name from 'bhaya' & 'khala' ('Bhaya' is the Indian name for Cassia Fistula, or Amaltaas & Khala means 'low ground' in Marathi). May be the place was once abound with these trees.

Charni Road

According to one account, this name is derived from a (then) locality near the Thane railway station called Chendni. Many residents of Chendni migrated to an settled near Girgaum and thus the name Chendni Road which became Charni Road later. Another account traces the roots to 'charon', the grazing of cattle.

Chowpatty

This is now synonymous with any sea beach in Mumbai, though initially it was meant only for the Girgaum Chowpatty. Chowpatty is derived from 'Chau-Pati' or four creeks.

Chinchpokli

This is derived from 'chinch' (Marathi for tamarind) trees that grew in the area.

Churchgate

Named after one of the three gates leading to the old fort. Interestingly Churchgate was called 'Pawan-chakki Gate' also, possibly on aacount of a wind mill at the location sometime in the late 18th century.

Colaba

The fishermen are called 'Koli' in Marathi (Interestingly, Koli means a spider - one who weaves a web or net). They were one of the earliest residents of Mumbai. Colaba probably derives its name from 'Kolbhat' meaning the residence of Kolis. Or, it could have originated from 'Kol-ab' (ab meaninng water in Persian) i.e. dwelling of Kolis near water. The Persian word 'Kalbeh' meaning a neck of land jutting into the sea could also have been an etymological origin for the name Colaba.

Cuffe Parade

Named after Mr. T.W. Cuffe, Chairman of the Standing Committee of Corporation 1901-02. He suggested the raised footpath on the Cuffe Parade Road that distinguishes it from other roads in Mumbai.

Dadar

Dadar means ladder in Marathi. Bombay was a set of seven islands and the village of Dadar would have been a 'ladder' leading to the main island of Bombay. No wonder, You still have sug a big crowd at the Dadar railway station even in these times.

Elephanta Islands

Originally known as Gharapuri, they were named elephanta by the Portuguese from the life-size figure of an elephant which stood in the lower part of the island. The figure later fell down, and was removed and re-installed in Victoria Gardens.

Girgaum

This is probably derived from 'giri' and 'gram' from its location at the foot of the Malabar Hills.

Kalbadevi

This place is named after a Kali (Kalika Devi) temple which was relocated to this area from Mahim.

Kurla

Derives its name from 'Kurli', meaning crab, which were found in abundance in the marshy areas surrounding the area.

Mahim

This is derived from the word Mahi, meaning earth. Mahim is a corrupted form of Mahikavati, (again, derived from Mahi) the capital of the 13th century ruler Bhimdeo.

Malabar Hill

Possibly derived from the pilgrims from the 'Malabar' region (South India) who used to visit the temple (Wlakeshwar/Ban Ganga temple) atop this hill in large numbers.

Matunga

Matunga (a neighbourhood of Mahim) is supposedly the place where 13th century King Bhimdeo of Mahikavati (today's Mahim), used to station his elephants (elephants are called matanga in Sanskrit).

Parel

This is another tree-named locality of Mumbai named after the Paral or Padel (Marathi for the 'trumpet flower')

Powai

The village of Powai is named after a 10th Century temple of Godess Padmavati located on the banks of the Powai Lake (exact location being within the premises of IIT Mumbai). The ancient name of the village was Poumvi. The word Powai is a corruption of the original name by the Portuguese. It is said that the village of Powai has been in existence for over 1000 years.

Prabhadevi

Named after the temple of Shakambhari Devi, the Patron goddess of King Bhimdeo. The temple, originally built in the 12th - 13th century, was destroyed by the Portuguese and rebuilt by one Shyam Nayak (a Pathre Prabhu) in 1715. Hence, the name Prabhadevi (possibly, derived from Prabhu).

Santacruz

The name comes from the Protuguese word meaning Holy Cross. This was the name of a church that existed on the site presently occupied by the Sacred Hearts Boys School.

Sion

Sion or शीव(as it is referred to in Marathi) is derived from the Marathi word शींव (Shinva) meaning boundary. The village of Sion was the boundary between the island of Bombay and Salsette.

Vasai

Probably one of the most important places in the history of Mumbai. It was known as Bassein during its long Portuguese rule. According to Wiki, the name “Vasai” appears on stone inscriptions in the Kanheri Cave writings and as "Vasya" in the Karla Cave inscriptions. Vasai is mentioned as “Bussy” in Ain-I-Akbari. Vasai was the seat of the various political powers such as the Peshwas, Mughals, Portuguese and the English.

The Treaty of Bassein was an important landmark in the history of British supremacy in India. Bajiro II, the late 18th - early 19th century Maratha ruler, was seeking refuge in Bassein after the Battle of Poona. To restore his Peshwaship, he had to agree to this Subsidiary Alliance that empowered the English to station 6,000 soldiers in the region against a payment of two and a half million ruppes to the East India Company as protection money. The treaty was intrumental in the downfall of the Maratha Empire.

Such historical importance, and I always thought of Vasai as just some far flung suburb of Mumbai.

Virar

Virar derives its name from the Eka Veera Devi temple, also called the Jivdani Mata. Legend has it that Pandavas visited the temple and carved out caves there (now called Pandav Dongri)

Ville Parle

Ville Parle was originally a set of two villages Idla (probably what is called Irla now in Ville Parle West, the house of the famous Alfa market) and Padla. Quite contrary to the belief that the suburb is named after the Parle Biscuit factory, it in fact is the other way round.

Worli

Worli is derived from Varli. Varli in Marathi means upper, relating to the northern location of the Varli islands with regards to Bombay.

And as for Vashi, am still looking for an answer!

On loosing half a grand

The other day, I withdrew 1K from the ATM before my swimming session (Oh Yes! Yes! Yes! I have joined swimming at the elite Hiranandani Club) and my mind said I shouldn't have withdrawn this big an amount. After all, my wallet would be lying there in the changing room and anyone could have access to it. But, I took my chances and here I am poorer by half the amount I withdrew.
It feels so helpless when you loose your money. The last time I felt like this was when we forgot Gunjan's birthday present in a rick.
Ever since I returned home and discovered my loss, I have been wondering where did the money go. I didn't spend it, and that I am pretty sure of. I never dropped it also, or so I think. And if someone were to flick it from my wallet, why would (s)he leave half the money. May be (s)he was a vey needy person (or so, my dear friend R thinks) who just took the money (s)he needed. How considerate!
Whatever it may be, I am poorer by half a grand, and I can't help but stop thinking of my lost money, and I feel irritated, helpless and frustrated at my carelessness.

In the land of Hindi..

Hindi literature is dead. At least none of my acquaintances seem to be too enthused on reading a good Hindi novel. The Hindi section in the Crosswords and Landmarks of the World have shrunk to a small neglected shelf; often stacked with Hindi translations of bestsellers such as 'Who moved my cheese' (मेरा चीज़ किसने हटाया ).

The closest one gets to Hindi Literature now is those x-grade thriller pocket books that you get at Andheri station or the unimpressive, superfluous poetry by our generations' poets which often is a result of the upheaval in their love-life.

What could be a bigger mockery of the language and its rich literature in the land of Mahadevi, Premchand, Dinkar and Neeraj.

Off late, I have been reading essays by Mahadevi Verma(remeber the stories of "Sona Hirni" and "Gaura Gaay" by this writer we read in our school). Though, at times her, choice of words is something that would get me to take out a Hindi-to English dictionary, that does not stop me from just going on with the flow of her stories.

I have read English translations of works of Tagore, but I wonder why has there not been a translation of Mahadevi's essays. Her portrayal of life around her is so real and so much in the context even today, almost 50 years after she wrote these essays. Then be it her pets in "Mera Parivar" or her memoirs of people in "Smriti Ki Rekhayein" and "Atit Ke Chalchitra", each story is equally unique and moving (disturbing, rather).

If Chetan Bhagat can sell a million copies of his stupid stories; then Mahadeviji definitely has a much better potential. But who is listening? Hindi literature is passé. Hindi literature is dead.

Where do you belong to?

Friends, interviewers, landlords and many more inquisitive souls have often asked me this question - "Where do you belong to?" And this, has been the most difficult for me to answer and am often at loss of words to explain why.

My standard answer now is - "I belong to nowhere, I belong to India". Nah! am not a patriotic guy, but this is the best that I can describe my belonging-ness.

What adds to the woes is that even my paternal family has had two bases. My late Grandfather shifted base from Allahabad to Agra after his retirement.
So, technically I am from Agra; but I have never really lived there. Even my father hasn't (Though, am not sure as to where my dad thinks he belongs to.). And, I hardly know anything about Agra apart from Taj Mahal and Swami Bagh.

I was born in Allahabd. Spent my toddler-hood there and have very faint memories. My maternal family stays in Allahabad but it stops at that. I have always been a visitor to this city. Earlier it was to spend the summer vacations at grandparent's and later on (when I started working) to attend weddings and other such family get-togethers. In all these 27 years of life, I would have ventured outside the confines of Civil Lines barely twice. So, I think I don't even qualify to be an Allahabadi.

I can say that I am from UP, but am not aware of the geography of the state. I don't even know if Muzaffarpur neighbours Mirzapur or if Firozabad is close to Muradabad.

Till about two years back, I would have said I am from Ahmedabad. But after my parents shifted their base to NCR I can't even say this, though my permanent address continues to be 34-Sona Mahal.... Alas! am no more an Amdavadi also, though my heart dwells in that city.

I thought the best answer to this question could be Delhi but that also doesn't work out for me. For my parents don't stay in Delhi (They stay in the NCR) and am as unaware of Delhi's geography as am of Uttar Prdesh's. So, if one were to tell me they stay in Pitampura, my expression would remain the same if they would have mentioned Greater Kailash or Rohini or Munirka. Ah! It is not Delhi either. Neither is it the NCR.

Thus, even though my father grew up in Allahabad, shifted to Agra later; my mother belongs to Allahabad; we have our property in Ahmedabad, and my parents are now sort of settled in the NCR, I don't belong to any of these places.

I belong to India!

A blue bunch in a May & Baker's box

A blue bunch of old letters in a May & Baker's tin box on a shelf in the store is probably is a prized collection for my mother, especially today when Nani is no more with us. I remember when mummy had a tendon fracture on her right thumb, the first words that she tried writing after her operation were - प्यारी मम्मी . That used to be the opening of each letter!

Usually, Nani would use up the entire space on that letter; not even sparing the margins in her smaller-than-Arial-font-size-8 handwriting. One would need a magnifying lens to read it, but not mummy. She knew where the page was to be turned over and which fold to look for to complete the last sentence. Nani would write about the maid who had relinquished the post (after all they are also Ranis of a different sort), or the new sweater she is knitting for us, or the weather, or her heath, or the latest wedding in Allahabad, or wish us on our birthdays, or congratulate us for good marks; among many other things. Nani's letters would often have english words and that would amaze me. Her letters would also mention how much she is waiting for the summer holidays and our visiting them.

Occasionally, Nana would also get some space to scribble his blessings. The last haalf page is what Nani would offer him. He would be generous with his usage of space, quite unlike Nani but his handwriting being that of a doctor's also used to be illegible for us.

Of course, there would be delays in receiving letters. Often we would receive the letter mummy last wrote to Nani after we had reached Allahabad.

Those were the days when we did not even have the now forgotten BSNL land line connection. The frequency of exchange of letters dwindled as we got our personal connection and BSNL introduced the India Calling Card. Old age also made it difficult for Nani to continue writing the letters. Her writing had become increasingly illegible towards the last of the letters she wrote. Telephone and later on Nana's cell phone completely replaced the letters; though Nani was never too good at talking over the phone.

When I think of it now, I feel how much more connected were we in those days when news used to take weeks to travel as against now when we are just a phone-call away. The wait for a letter was something that kept us in each others mind and hearts; somethiing that emails can never replicate.

At least there were no error messages saying BAD BAD SERVER! NO DONUTS FOR YOU!

We knew, well in advance, that Nani would already be busy preparing the lovely katahal ka achaar and aatey ke laddo for us to be savoured in the summer vacations! They definitely tasted better than today's donuts!!

Of Ramlal, food, music, literature and celebrity spotting

It is very rare that you get to enjoy literature, good food, theatre and celebrity spotting; all at one go; under one roof. If you are wondering what place am talking about, just walk into the compound of Prithvi Theatre.
Tucked away in the calm surroundings of Janki Kutir, at a stone's throw from the hustle bustle of neighbouring Juhu beach, Prithvi is an art lover's paradise and I am in love with this beautiful place.

When at Prithvi, one has so many options to explore that time seems to fly by.

We (Me and R) went for a play "Salesman Ramlal" starring Satish Kaushik and Seema Biswas. The play has a somber story revolving around the life of a common salesman - Ramlal (played by Satish) who like many of us, dreams of making it big. Ramlal's entire life is a mirage and it comes crashing one day. Though there is absolutely no positive note in the story, it does gets us to realise that "(इंसान के ) कुछ न होने में कुछ गलत नहीं " (There is nothing wrong in being a mediocre). The problem is in not accepting the reality and chasing the mirage. Seema Biswas’ and Satish Kaushik’s performances are impeccable as the husband-wife duo.

If theatre is not your muse, the Prithvi Cafe - an open air cafe - is a great place with its reasonable prices and the modest spread of appetising preparations. And if you are looking for that "something more"; look no more. Just look around; and the flute rendition by a sexagenarian seated under a banyan tree - Suhas Joshi (an architect by profession) - is something that would definitely take you to a different world.

If you are still yearning for more, Prithvi also offers its visitors a quaint book-store which houses one of the most amazing collections of literature. I am in love with their collection of Hindi authors.

You also get to spot many celebrities enjoying a cuppa at Prithvi. Me and R were able to spot Makarand Deshpande (the Fakir in Swades), Vrajesh Hirjee (the Anthony Gonzalves in Golmal Returns) and Madhurjeet Sarghi (Santosh Bhabhi from Na aana iss des….). There were many more known faces whom you could remember but not recall where were they seen last on the silver screen.

Prithvi is untouched by time. It belongs to an era bygone!