The Hindu Business Line : The stuff dreams are made of

MUCH before I actually saw Bombay, I was hooked to it. Playing Monopoly at a very young age, I became familiar with the names of various places in the city and was delighted to buy property at Marine Drive, Grant Road and so on.

Even some 60 years ago, Bombay was a second home to several South Indians. A couple of uncles who had secured jobs in Bombay, whenever they came home on leave, waxed eloquent on the breathtaking beauty and excitement of the city. Brought up in the small towns and villages of Tamil Nadu and Kerala, Bombay remained the dream city for millions of youngsters like me. They passed SSC, learnt shorthand and typing and set out to Bombay. At Chhokanathapurcam and other villages in Palakkad, several of my friends were known by their nicknames, such as Ambi, Mottai, Parattai, Thadiyan and so on. Oh, what a transformation when they got jobs in Bombay and came back on leave. The hairstyles were slicker, the dirty dhoti was replaced by ill-fitting trousers, they walked with a swagger, dropped Hindi words in conversation and smoked! Most of them were low-paid stenos and typists, shared a room in distant suburbs but talked big in a language that the locals hardly understood. But such friends kindled the ambition that if life was worth living, it had to be lived in Bombay which, from all accounts, was a paradise.

Though a country bumpkin, I was familiar with Hollywood films and collected film posters, which were readily sent to me by managers of Bombay theatres such as Metro, Regal and New Empire. I concluded that everyone in Bombay was nice, friendly and co-operative and longed to visit the city.

Though "married" to Bombay only in 1977, my affair with the city began much earlier, in the mid-50s. Some memories stand out. The MGM week-long film festival at the Metro when I watched enthralled All the Brothers were Valiant, Mogambo, The Prisoner of Zenda, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and a couple more. Metro was to become special during every visit. Besides screening regular MGM films, it showed classics at ridiculously low rates as morning shows and helped in my education and knowledge of Hollywood films.

The visits became more frequent from the mid-50s when I secured a job in Ahmedabad. That meant passing through Bombay at least once a year and spending part of my holidays in the city. The Arabian Sea was the major attraction and there was nothing better than walking down Marine Drive munching peanuts. The world was suddenly transformed, particularly after I discovered how pretty and well-dressed the Bombay girls were! One made the usual rounds: the Prince of Wales Museum, the Taraporewala Aquarium, Chowpatty beach, shopping in Colaba, the tram ride from Museum to King's Circle... Besides Hollywood films, there was cricket. I spent hours at Shivaji Park watching hundreds of young boys practising. Big cricket was then played at the Brabourne Stadium, and by paying just Rs 25, one could watch a five-day Test match from the North Stand. The Bombay team in those days was as strong as the Indian team.

Cricket provided several wonderful memories. I saw the Australians playing in the city in 1956-57 and their best batsman, Neil Harvey, cracking a glorious century. Another Australian team under Richie Benaud played at the Brabourne Stadium three years later when the proceedings were stolen by a teenage girl who rushed to the pitch and kissed Indian batsmen Abbas Ali Baig after he scored a half-century. Spectators proved they could be nice as well as naughty when some of them set fire to parts of the Brabourne Stadium in a Test match against Bill Lawry's team after the umpire gave an Indian batsman out caught behind and one of the commentators went on repeating that he was not out!

I also watched the magic of Gary Sobers which helped the West Indies beat India convincingly both in 1958-59 and 1966-67. Immediately after the Test match was over in 1966, Bombay was swept by the rumour that Sobers had got engaged to Anju Mahendru, a mini-starlet of Bollywood. It proved to be a publicity stunt.

But cricket was not the sole entertainment for me during these visits to Bombay. Earlier, my friends had told me that if one stumbled against someone in the city, it would be a film star. Well, it wasn't quite like that, but I did have darshan of my fair share of film stars. Handsome Shashi Kapoor was often found eating cake and drinking coffee at Bombellis, opposite Brabourne Stadium. A friend pointed out to me music directors Shankar and Jaikishan, Raj Kapoor and singer Mukesh at their favourite haunt, Gaylord restaurant, near Churchgate. Mehboob Studio at Bandra was busy all the time, doing three shifts. Outdoor shooting? All one had to do was pay a visit to Worli Sea Face and Bandra Bandstand. But Bombay fans seldom mobbed film stars, preferring to watch them from a distance. But they were pretty vocal in politics and election campaigns as I learnt when I came to the city to campaign for V.K. Krishna Menon against J.B. Kripalani in the Lok Sabha election from Bombay North-West. What a campaign it was, with R.K. Karanjia's Blitz vigorously supporting VKK and lampooning Kripalani as "Kripalooni'! Everyone read the Blitz those days, particularly when it covered the sensational Nanavati murder case.

Bombay's energy amazed me. People were always on the move, and even in those days, the suburban trains were packed most of the time. The double-decker buses were another attraction. They arrived and departed on time, and the passengers always stood in queue. The city had not been taken over by hawkers and the pavements could be used for walking. I confined my shopping to the well-known names in the Fort area. One of them was Davysons on Veer Nariman Road from where I usually bought jeans, jackets and jerkins, which were much admired in Ahmedabad. Thankfully, the shop exists even today though it is now more of a tailoring establishment.

A great adventure was my first visit to a five-star hotel, The Taj, where I ordered a sandwich and some coffee. Bombay was full of pavement-eating stalls offering a wide variety of food. A visit to the Muslim restaurants on Mohamad Ali Road was a revelation. My first steak was at Touche on Warden Road and I wondered if the place would go up in smoke when the sizzling platter was put on my table. Purohit's, next to Churchgate, offered wonderful vegetarian food and snacks. I had very little time to spend in the suburbs. But Juhu beach and visits to various cousins and aunts settled in suburbs such as Vikhroli, Borivili and Andheri added spice. The suburban culture was different. Matunga was so unlike Colaba, it could have been part of Palakkad, particularly on Hindu festivals.

Today, as a full-fledged Mumbaikar, I find the city changed a lot, though not necessarily for the better. But Bombay in the 1950s was a dream city and my honeymoon with it has been unforgettable.

Picture by Paul Noronha

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