All Roads Lead to Phoenix

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Warning: Mall lovers might want to just skip this...

 

I understand the appeal of malls. Catch the latest flick, shop till ya drop, binge on beer and hog on hamburgers. Without worrying about parking.

 

I too love Bollywood and Biryanis, and dont mind visiting Bebe with wifey either, but whats the beauty in stuffing all of it into a ugly box!

 

Flashback to the Mumbai of the 90s...

 

I was one of the unfortunate ones who lived in "Gaon" - read Juhu - so had to travel all the way to "town" to watch English flicks. But what a pleasure it was, and what character each of the destinations had.

On a day we felt cash strapped, my pals and I would take the local to Charni Road and make our way, through the swarm of Gujju Diamond traders of the Opera House area, to the hole-in-the-wall Central Plaza theatre where tickets were 20 bucks apiece.

 

 

On days I had a car, we would leave Juhu at 10 pm and speed through the empty Western Express Highway, the Koli neighborhood of Mahim Causeway, the Marathi stronghold of Shivaji Park and Prabhadevi, Ganpati Bappa at Siddhivinayak, wave-splashed Haji Ali Dargah, the upscale boutiques of Peddar Road, Wilson college overlooking a quiet Chowpatty, the Gymkhanas on the necklace, finally parking the car under the watch of the magnificent Victoria Terminus, and still having enough time to buy tickets and popcorn for the 10:45 pm Sterling Late Night show - yes the one that screened "classy" movies for the "discerning" audience.

 

If not Sterling, it would be Eros, surrounded by serene Art Deco buildings on one side, the madness of Churchgate station on another, and the towering presence of the Victorian masterpieces - Rajabai Tower and Mumbai University - across the street. Or the aptly named Regal, sitting discreetly at the beginning of the Colaba causeway, with the iconic Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal hotel, as well as plenty of seedy cheap hotels and ludicrously expensive curio and carpet shops catering to firangs a stone's throw away.

 

It was a time when Rajshri films demanded that they would release HAHK only if theater owners refurbished the buildings in order to attract crowds, and families thronged to Liberty, decked in their finest clothes, like it was a relative's wedding. If tickets were sold out and you were willing to buy in black, you headed to G7 in Bandra, or Chandan in Juhu.

 

It was a time when going to the movies also meant re-acquanting yourself with a part of this erstwhile great city. Now its about heading to the closest mall.

 

Food has gone the same way. Back in the "good old days", I couldn't think of soft idlis and piping hot wadas without imagining going round and round Kings's circle, trying to figure out, for the umpteenth time, which lane Madras Cafe was in. Sardar's Pau Bhaji is as delicious as ever, but more than that there is a certain charm in finding a parking in a narrow alley in the Bombay Central area, and then eating at a place where you aren't sure of drinking the water as the waiter carries four glasses in each hand with his fingers dipping into the liquid.

 

You can give me the best strawberries and cream presented Masterchef style in a fancy restaurant, but I'd opt for the offering by Bachelors' at Chowpatty, watching the cars whizz by on what is arguably one of the world's best cityscapes. I get ten time more satisfaction eating at a cozy fine-dining restaurant tucked away in a small lane in Juhu adjacent to a tycoon or filmstar's bungalow, compared to an equally good place situated in a noisy, raucous mall. It's a special feeling eating at the original Cream Center at Chowpatty - its the place where my parents first met.

 

 

Just like movies and food, the shopping experience has also become boring for me. 

 

 

There are hundreds of Palladium clones in the world - in Singapore only there seem to be dozens of them - but there is only one Colaba, one Linking Road, one Irla. I remember accompanying mom to Mohammed Ali and Crawford Market where she used to buy masalas and mangoes - the images of weak old men pulling handcarts in Mumbai's sweltering heat; the thousands of small stores, half run by Muslims, half run by Gujjus, selling everything from provisions to hardware to clothes; the Masjids adjacent to Jain temples.

 

Even offices are increasingly becoming like malls. Offices have moved away from the beautiful, even if crowded, Fort and Nariman Point areas, where you would walk out into the neighborhood for the lunch break and maybe bump into friends. The modern offices in BKC and Parel are islands unto themselves, with an in house gym and based on feedback I have got, usually a mediocre canteen.

 

Life in Mumbai is increasingly becoming concentrated in three buildings - the home, sometimes replete with all "facilities", the office and the mall.

 

The old way of life is not dead, but without going into the pros and cons of the change, the upper middle class in Mumbai are increasingly living IN the city, but not LIVING the city.