The Street where we live
The Street where we live
We live on a street called Shiley Rajan road. I wonder why they call it a road. It really is a street, narrow, cobblestoned, pothole-filled street. As quaint as Bandra streets come. I have been living here for the past 20 years. If my mother's gene persists then I will be living here for another 20 years. Hence the street where I live deserves a blog.
The name of the street is indicative of the fact that it leads to the village of Shirley Rajan. Bandra is dotted with such villages reflecting East Indian cultures, art, architecture, and the food. While the rest of the Mumbai was ruled by Portuguese, Bandra was ruled by East India company and thus people here are called East Indians.
As you turn the corner from the road going down from Pali Hill to Carter road, you will see on your right, a small eatery called Sun Shine restaurant. This is the gateway to our street. Before you even read the signboard, smell of fried rice waffles into your nose. Curiously, this smell persists from breakfast to dinner. The mouth of the street is narrow as all Bandra lanes are meant to be. A banana seller stands there like a guard throughout the day. He is a sentinel of our street, directing people, helping clear traffic jams, feeding dogs. I wonder when he sells his Bananas. I am his regular client and he knows the exact time when I will pass his cart so he keeps two bananas ready to go.
Except for this bit of chaos at the street entrance, Shirly Rajan road is surprisingly quiet. It comes alive twice a day when throngs of students of Rizvi Education Campus enter and exit the street. rest of the time, I can hear horns of cars from distant Carter road, a flue seller playing old filmi songs down the street somewhere and shouts of vegetable seller near St. Anne's church.
Once you have turned fully into the street, you will see a signboard of a gent's haircutting saloon called Ashirwad on your right. The barber knows me well and waves daily although I am not his patron. Once I painstakingly explained to him how I visit Air-Cool saloon at Churchgate for so many decades and can not bring to change that. He still remains hopeful of my visit to his saloon so he continues to give me that yearning look when I pass him.
We live on a street called Shiley Rajan road. I wonder why they call it a road. It really is a street, narrow, cobblestoned, pothole-filled street. As quaint as Bandra streets come. I have been living here for the past 20 years. If my mother's gene persists then I will be living here for another 20 years. Hence the street where I live deserves a blog.
The name of the street is indicative of the fact that it leads to the village of Shirley Rajan. Bandra is dotted with such villages reflecting East Indian cultures, art, architecture, and the food. While the rest of the Mumbai was ruled by Portuguese, Bandra was ruled by East India company and thus people here are called East Indians.
As you turn the corner from the road going down from Pali Hill to Carter road, you will see on your right, a small eatery called Sun Shine restaurant. This is the gateway to our street. Before you even read the signboard, smell of fried rice waffles into your nose. Curiously, this smell persists from breakfast to dinner. The mouth of the street is narrow as all Bandra lanes are meant to be. A banana seller stands there like a guard throughout the day. He is a sentinel of our street, directing people, helping clear traffic jams, feeding dogs. I wonder when he sells his Bananas. I am his regular client and he knows the exact time when I will pass his cart so he keeps two bananas ready to go.
Except for this bit of chaos at the street entrance, Shirly Rajan road is surprisingly quiet. It comes alive twice a day when throngs of students of Rizvi Education Campus enter and exit the street. rest of the time, I can hear horns of cars from distant Carter road, a flue seller playing old filmi songs down the street somewhere and shouts of vegetable seller near St. Anne's church.
Once you have turned fully into the street, you will see a signboard of a gent's haircutting saloon called Ashirwad on your right. The barber knows me well and waves daily although I am not his patron. Once I painstakingly explained to him how I visit Air-Cool saloon at Churchgate for so many decades and can not bring to change that. He still remains hopeful of my visit to his saloon so he continues to give me that yearning look when I pass him.
Next to the saloon is a small, hole-in-the-wall shop of old newspapers and other junk. The owner Mr. Patel always greets me with Jai Jalaram (a popular saint in Gujarat) and stands up from his crouching position with folded hands. He takes our old newspapers once a month and enjoys the visit to our home that affords him a glass of cold water from our refrigerator, a piece of chocolate, and a brief conversation about the weather in Kutch, his native place.
Manish Bhai, a chemist is located right next to Mr. Patel. He is a young and hardworking man who keeps the shop open till 11 pm. His cell phone number is mixed up in my handset among five other Manish Bhais that I know of and often I end up waking up wrong Manish Bhai at 11 pm asking him to deliver few painkillers to my residence.
A tiny lane, discernable only to snoopy people, curves after Manish Bhai's shop. That leads to a sprawling dhobi-ghat visible more clearly from our guest room atop 6th floor. The swoosh and thuds sound of thousands of clothes being washed from 5 am to 11 pm has become part of our lives. Some of us treat it as a nuisance and others as opium to their mind to fall asleep. These dhobis celebrate every Hindu festival with the sinful joy and gusto that I never imagined was possible among humans.
A tiny lane, discernable only to snoopy people, curves after Manish Bhai's shop. That leads to a sprawling dhobi-ghat visible more clearly from our guest room atop 6th floor. The swoosh and thuds sound of thousands of clothes being washed from 5 am to 11 pm has become part of our lives. Some of us treat it as a nuisance and others as opium to their mind to fall asleep. These dhobis celebrate every Hindu festival with the sinful joy and gusto that I never imagined was possible among humans.
The building where we stay is called Manish Sea croft. Since builder Manish is absconding, we have dumped his name and simplified this to Sea croft. It stands adjacent to dhobi-ghat. The uniqueness of our building is that it is open from all four sides pouring vast swathes of the sun (and moon) lights in our 6th-floor ocean-facing flat. The building is a microcosm of Indian unity in diversity. So our residents include Hindus, Parsis, Christians, Muslims, regrettably no Sikhs. Our building faces a flat roof railway colony buildings that were built in British times. The glittering sea of Carter road lies beyond the colony. The backside of our building is the iconic church of St Annes. There is a hidden and not so well discovered staircase in the church that takes you to Pali Hill right next to Rishi Kapoor bungalow. I use this often - by bribing the church guard - to climb up to Pali Hill to enjoy tea at my favorite vendor. Our building deserves a separate blog so let us move on.
The street at this point forks and one road turns tad to the right. This leads to the homes of many Bollywood actors. At the forking point, you will see a grim-looking shack owned by a Malayali pair of brothers who acts as a grocer but underneath supplies forbidden drugs to youngsters. I have boycotted their shop except when I am in dire need of diet coke for Sunday afternoon rum & coke drink.
Further down to this creepy shop is the Jayant Store, our regular grocer. He delivers the smallest of our requirements to our home. He speaks fluent Gujarati and Marwadi so I am unable to guess his native place. I am an old fashioned Indian who always wants to know your native place. Jayant Store employs some really young but bright lads who come home for delivery. They are ever polite, remove footwear outside our flat, deposit grocery, and respectfully wait outside to collect cash. A tip of five rupees put a delightful smile on their face. They are too young and uneducated to smartly thank me. A smile says it all.
Shirley Rajan road has buildings with funky Anglicised names like Felicia, Beu Monde, Ben Nives, and so on. I am yet to see any Kishor Kunj or Laxmi Niwas in our street.
As soon as you go past Jayant store, Yoga Studio, and few nice Bakeries, the vista opens up to the vibrating, colorful campus of Rizvi collages abuzz with energy. About 1000 students gather here from 8 am to 2 pm or beyond to study a multitude of programs. You will witness young boys and girls roaming around the street showing no signs of fear of the future. They eat as if there is no tomorrow at scores of eating joints, listen to music that I can't comprehend, chat and discuss whatever the youngsters discuss in this age and times and head towards Carter road promenade as soon as they have a free period from campus.
The street itself ends at this point and turns left to open up on the promenade thus changing its name, shape, size, and its unique identity that it leaves behind just a hundred feet.
When you are visiting us next time, you may just remember the fragrance of fried rice, a cart filled with bananas, and Namaste of Mr. Patel and you will straight land into Sea Croft, our home now and beyond.
Shirley Rajan road has buildings with funky Anglicised names like Felicia, Beu Monde, Ben Nives, and so on. I am yet to see any Kishor Kunj or Laxmi Niwas in our street.
As soon as you go past Jayant store, Yoga Studio, and few nice Bakeries, the vista opens up to the vibrating, colorful campus of Rizvi collages abuzz with energy. About 1000 students gather here from 8 am to 2 pm or beyond to study a multitude of programs. You will witness young boys and girls roaming around the street showing no signs of fear of the future. They eat as if there is no tomorrow at scores of eating joints, listen to music that I can't comprehend, chat and discuss whatever the youngsters discuss in this age and times and head towards Carter road promenade as soon as they have a free period from campus.
The street itself ends at this point and turns left to open up on the promenade thus changing its name, shape, size, and its unique identity that it leaves behind just a hundred feet.
When you are visiting us next time, you may just remember the fragrance of fried rice, a cart filled with bananas, and Namaste of Mr. Patel and you will straight land into Sea Croft, our home now and beyond.
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