Our armchair travels have taken us to Bahrain. This is a nation that consists of over 30 islands in the Persian Gulf.
The King Fahd Causeway is a series of bridges and causeways that connects Saudi Arabia to Bahrain. The causeway was built to improve the links and bonds between these two countries. It was officially opened to the public in 1986.
Its modern capital Manama has left a lot of history behind for visitors to delight in instead of creating an ultra-modern city of steel and glass. The modern nicely blends in with the ancient history.
The Bahrain National Museum is the country’s most popular attraction. Visitors can get a great introduction to its history here. The highlights are the archaeological finds from ancient Dilmun, the reproduction souq covering Traditional Trades and Crafts on the first floor and the satellite photo of Bahrain which takes up most of…
I do not know how many of you have read this lovely story of Orpheus and Eurydice that ends in tragedy. I am repeating this story for the benefit of my readers as this mythological incident teaches us something important.
If anyone who reads the story wonders what we learn or why Orpheus failed to regain Eurydice in his memorably journey to Hades or the so called netherworld, it will come back to two simple words.
It teaches us how important it is to use faith and patience as our two legs in our journeys, and if you use them well, you will reach your intended destination with the person whom you set out with…
Orpheus is known as the most talented music player of the ancient times. It is said that god Apollo was his father, from whom he took his extreme talent in music, and the Muse Calliope was his mother. He was living in Thrace, on the northeastern part of Greece. Orpheus had a divinely gifted voice that could charm everyone who heard it. When he was presented first the lyre, as a boy, he had it mastered in no time at all.
The myth says that no god or mortal could resist his music and even the rocks and trees would move themselves to be near him.
Humans and beasts alike would be enchanted by it and often even the most inanimate of objects would yearn to be near him. Well into his youth he had mastered the lyre and his melodious voice garnered him audiences from near and afar.
It was at one such gathering of humans and beasts that his eyes fell on a wood nymph. The girl was called Eurydice,who was beautiful and shy. She had been drawn to Orpheus enamored by his voice and such was the spell of beauty in music and appearance that neither could cast their eyes off each other. Something inexplicable tugged the hearts of the two young people and soon they fell dearly in love, unable to spend a single moment apart. After a while, they decided to get married.
There was one man who was despising Orpheus and desired Eurydice for his own. Aristaeus, a shepherd, had plotted a plan to conquer the beautiful nymph. And there he was, waiting in the bushes for the young couple to pass by. Seeing that the lovers were approaching, he intended to jump on them and kill Orpheus. As the shepherd made his move, Orpheus grabbed Eurydice by the hand and started running pell-mell through the forest. The chase was long and Aristaeus showed no signs of giving up or slowing down. On and on they ran and suddenly, Orpheus felt Eurydice stumble and fall, her hand slipping from his grasp. Unable to comprehend what had just happened, he rushed to her side but stopped short in dismay, for his eyes perceived the deathly pallor that suffused her cheeks. Looking around, he saw no trace of the shepherd for Aristaeus had witnessed the event and had left. Few steps away, Eurydice had stepped on a nest of snakes and had been bitten by a deadly viper. Knowing that there was no chance of survival, Aristaeus had abandoned his try, cursing his luck and Orpheus.
After the death of his beloved wife, Orpheus was no more the same carefree person he used to be. His life without Eurydice seemed endless and could do nothing more than grief for her. This is when he had a great but yet crazy idea: he decided to go to the underworld and try to get his wife back. Apollo, his father, would talk to Hades, the god of the underworld, to accept him and hear his plea. Armed with his weapons, the lyre and his voice, Orpheus approached Hades and demanded entry into the underworld. None challenged him. Standing in front of the rulers of the dead, Orpheus said why he was there, in a voice both mellifluous and disquieting. He played his lyre and sang out to King Hades and Queen Persephone pleading that Eurydice was returned to him. Not even the most stone-hearted of people or Gods could have neglected the hurt in his voice. Hades openly wept, Persephone’s heart melted and even Cerberus, the gigantic three-headed hound guarding the entry to the underworld, covered his many ears with his paws and howled in despair.
The voice of Orpheus was so moving that Hades promised to this desperate man that Eurydice would follow him to the Upper World, the world of the living. However, he warned Orpheus that for no reason must he look back while his wife was still in the dark, for that would undo everything he hoped for. He should wait for Eurydice to get into the light before he looked at her. With great faith in his heart and joy in his song, Orpheus began his journey out of the underworld, joyful that he would once again be reunited with his love.
As Orpheus was reaching the end of the Underworld, he could hear the footfalls of his wife approaching him. He wanted to turn around and hug her immediately but managed to control his feelings. As he was approaching the exit, his heart was beating faster and faster. The moment he stepped on the world of the living and was in the light, he turned his head to hug his wife. Unfortunately, he got only a glimpse of Eurydice before she was once again drawn back into the underworld. When Orpheus turned his head, Eurydice was still in the dark, she hadn’t seen the Sun and, as Hades had warned Orpheus, his sweet wife was drawn back to the dark world of the dead…. In conclusion, when one runs out of patience, he loses faith and vice versa…
There was a time I was one of the many footboard travellers on a Mumbai aka Bombay train. These days am out of touch and am comfortable boarding a dubai metro..
Commuters in an open train door at Churchgate Station in Mumbai. Notice the sign by the door which states the carriage is for ladies only during certain times. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Making a journey in a Mumbai Local is an experience in itself. If you have been to this city and haven’t boarded a electric train on any of the three routes that ply through the metropolis, it means you have missed half the fun or half the nightmare, depending on the experience….
The daily commuter first walks, then jogs and finally does the steeple chase run to complete the last lap towards the station. The steeple chase is chosen only when he sees the train pulling into the station. During such occasions, everyone like others, just run across the tracks, then on to the station platform. Maybe the local commuter can qualify himself for long jumps and…
Ganga had come late to school today also. The teacher chided her for being late every now and then. She was late most of the days in a month, let alone some days when she was absent. The only municipal school that stood at the periphery of the village had an assortment of pupils drawn from various walks of life from the village residents.
Little did the teacher know that Ganga’s day started at 4 in the morning. She had to supply milk from Lalchand Seth’s diary to around 25 households which used to get over by 5:30 and go to Ratan Seth’s house to wash and clean the dishes.
Today the teacher had had enough and decided to give the punishment to the little girl. As she stretched out our hands for the cane to land, the teacher’s eyes fell upon the marks on the hands. It was full of cuts and bruises. When asked what had happened, Ganga preferred to remain silent. She escaped the beating this time, but will have to sit outside the class for 2 hours as punishment. As she sat outside, her eyes fell on the chirping sparrows playing in the sand and the parrots flying to some far off land. If only, I was one among them, she wondered as she shielded her eyes from the hot Sun making his presence felt.
Bala is standing beside the road with an assortment of guavas and oranges. Like his elder brother Shiva he is also a bread winner for his family, berefit of their father, and with 2 more siblings and an ailing mother to support. Both of them are out all the time selling wares. In the case of Shiva he has a make shift stall outside the main market that he uses to sell bangles, beaded chains and all such items.
Bala used to buy 5 kilos of guavas and oranges and walk another 2 kilometers to a vantage scenic spot on the highway so that he could sell them to people or tourists frequenting the place. There were lucky days, when before reaching the spot, his goods would have been sold on the road itself. Bala had gone to school till his 4th standard and after that what ever knowledge he had gained in the last 5 years was from these very tourists; He had picked up a bit of few languages at least that came handy in negotiating during the purchase or the haggling saga. There were days when very few people picked his wares or gave him a decent money in return for them. Today was a hot summer day and there were not many people who even cared to look at him, let alone his fruit basket.
Rakesh was enjoying his vacation as his summer holidays had started a few days back. He along with his family is on the way to Nasik and planned to visit places that they had skipped in their visit last year. On the way, they saw some tourists have disembarked from the magnificent vehicles to see an attractive waterfall.
They also stop to get down to take pictures, selfies with all backgrounds possible. At this time, a boy of 12 approaches them. “Saab, madam, Peru, Santra lo na; yeh bahut sast hai, saab ” in a pleading voice (translation: Sir..please buy these fruits Peru(Guava) Santra(orange), these are very cheap). Rakesh looks at the boy aged same as him, he appears shabby and sun burnt. The boy is watching him with awe and wants him to negotiate the sale with his parents. No no, the father says, we have enough food and fruits stocked in our car, no point in buying from this boy, don’t even know from where he has plucked all these.
The large guavas, for Rakesh, seemed inviting as also the boy’s eyes but his pleas fell on deaf ears and he had to get into his car that was raring to go with his parents. But before getting in, he waved back to the dark boy with his basket of fruits who was still looking at him with one hand shielding himself from the afternoon Sun.
While speeding through, in the cool comfort of his Innova car, that was now negotiating a hump, his eyes fell on a girl sitting outside a small school veranda near to the road. Pointing to her, he nudges his father. Why is she sitting outside father? He curiously asked. “Maybe she hasn’t done her homework before coming to school ” was the quick reply..” Put the blinds on son for the sun is really hitting us even through the tinted glass”.
There is a time when everyone longs to fly. Some flap their hands, some jump into the air only to realize gravity that instantly grounds us. The air borne feature is a gift of the Lord to all those avians who survey us, as they fly around us and maybe wonder – what if all these two legged animals too had wings. They would never be secure then.
Coming back to the flying itch, I decided today to develop this flying story and the dream to fly. Yes in our dreams, we do fly once in a while or many a time, depending on our dreams. Most of the flying dreams end up with either us losing our wings or crashing like a plane that has lost both its engines. But yes, more than the fear of flying in airplanes, how sweet it would have to been to glide like an Albatross over the ocean or an eagle over the hills surveying the beauty below. How would one feel, if we would descend down in a swoop or fly into a spin and recover just in time and steady ourselves.
Like the Siberian Crane that flies thousands of miles, how great it would have been for us to flap our wings and start on a journey perhaps to the Andes and on the way pass over the Amazon river that spreads its tributaries as its wings on the ground below.
On second thoughts. can we fly to a place without our baggage that however we might shrink still weighs up a good 20 kilograms. How can we fly with that baggage on our backs. We definitely would break our backs midway and be seen breathing our last on some river bank, just a few feet away, from the precious life giving water.
But what about the work log, the emails and the calls and the food and the sun creams that we need to take along the airborne trip, you might ask. There you are, you never can think out of the box. If you really can, then you need to just dump the box altogether and fly carefree to a place which beckons you.
How can I cross the Libyan desert on my way to Egypt or do I need to fly around the hot desert, but then, will I have the stamina, or should I wait for winter to set in. I hope the thought has been ingrained and has taken shape in your mind. Once the feathers too appear, you can decide to fly any place on the earth, in your dreams of course, as in reality actual flights have been already handed over to the birds by the Lord. But then, He has bestowed the vision and the imagination to reach and traverse places as you like.
Thank him for that when you go to bed. Who knows, He might gift you a winged flight you had always dreamt of…
It was towards the late 90’s when I first set my foot on Dubai sands, thanks to my Uncle who invited me to visit the United Arab Emirates and have a look at job opportunities. This was also one of the primary reasons that brought most Asians towards this city right from the 70’s.
A lot of people have come here and prospered thanks to the enterprising nature of the founders of the emirates who never floundered when it came to trade and adventures. The rulers be it the great Shaikh Zayed or Shaikh Maktoum, always had a pulse on the people’s sentiments and the trade.
My arrival was in June, being one of the hottest months in these parts of the world where I was given a weather shock, just as I left the cool precincts of the airport. I had heard and seen the progress of the Dubai airport since childhood days, as the post cards carried a lot of pictures of the new airport that came up in the 80’s.
The network of roads was mind-boggling in the initial days, and I could not make anything out of the places wherever we went. I stayed at Karama at my uncle’s place, and places like Deira and Bur Dubai took a few days to digest. Also, got to see a few places at Sharjah in the first week, before I decided to hunt for a job.
Mornings were reading the newspapers to look for possible appointments that could match my skills, and call up my uncle at work, so that he could send them by fax, or post to such openings. It appeared that he was running such errands for me more than the work at hand at his office. Email was just catching up in 1997, though computers and the internet had made their appearances in offices. I remain indebted to whatever he did to help me etch out a career in the Gulf.
When I landed a job finally in a few weeks time, it was the public transport that amazed me, by their promptness and by their pickup and delivery of commuters at various work places in neat clock work precision. With just a few coins in your pocket, you could literally travel and cover the whole of the city. Wide foot paths made walking easier, and I would always take the option of walking at least a mile to my office from the bus stop. In summer, however this liberty was taken, only when I missed the bus which would drop me closest to my office, as otherwise, I would be drenched in sweat by the time, I reached in time for work.
Summers are very hot in the middle east but it is best experienced by tourists, visitors and natives alike in the months from June to September, where the dates on palms would ripen with the heat. The humidity was its best in the month of October during the switch over from summer to winter. When one used to leave an air-conditioned cab, you could experience the humid air, that would force you to seek the next cool place. In my case with my spectacles, I would have to take my handkerchief and wipe my lenses, before i could see a thing. It was like getting into a sauna bath. With a few years in the city, it was easy to judge the change of seasons. Rains rarely made their appearance sometimes they did in the winter months especially in the month of December or January, and it was so special that you would miss it if you were indoors and not aware of that lonely shower of rain. With an annual rainfall averaging 2 to 3 centimeters, Dubai was a city that got stuck with its name of the being an Oasis City in a desert. Drinking water came from the springs of Masafi in Fujairah made popular by the Masafi brand or from other springs in other places in the Emirates.
Getting a taxi was easy and you could jump into any make or model of your choice. Most of the taxis were Toyota Corollas and Coronas and Mitsubishi’s. In Deira, armed with a 5 dirham currency note, you could travel anywhere in Deira and take the ferry at Deira to cross over to Bur Dubai and get into another cab or a bus that suited you. The ferry trip would cost you just 50 fils ( 1 Dirham equals 100 Fils) at that time.
Most of the taxi drivers were Asians at that time, mostly from India. Pakistan and Afghanistan. Sometimes people would haggle or bargain with them before getting in after telling them the destination. This way, one could avoid the war of words at the end of the trip, the weather not helping much to the heated arguments in the summer months.
Come 2000, the Dubai Transport made its appearance with the Mercedes make cabs, the Sonata’s followed by the Camry and some of the best makes, and one could get into one’s car of choice, if one had the patience to wait for a while. With this, also came the meter, and one had to cough up more money to pay and slowly the waiting time also got factored into the meter calculations. When the cabs waited for more than 5 minutes, the waiting time started, which was a period of mental agony for the middle class.These cabs offered good comfort, the driver came in a uniform and pleasant manners unlike the earlier cabbies who would size you up, as if your stood in a garment store and he was your worst tailor to befriend.
All said and done, the old cabbies in their corollas and coronas were good natured, barring a few and were the transport messengers of Dubai for long years. By mid 2000, most of them had either joined the branded and newly sprouted car companies like Dubai Transport, Cars and Metro Taxi service or had switched to other professions while some had called it a day and left the land of gold to their own sweet native homes. Many a time during long trips to the other Emirates where work would take me, these drivers used to tell their stories about their loved ones back home.
With the advent of Emaar and Nakheel, the construction boom started, and in all roads, you could see cement mixing trucks plying along signifying the ticking progress. Dubai Airport got a ramp up with Terminal 2 coming up, and the metro got off to a construction phase in 2006.
As Dubai prospered, the savers and lenders of money, the Banks made their appearance with almost all the 7 emirates each having a national bank to its name. In addition to the government banks, there also came to the fore, some private banks from enterprising business houses as also foreign banks like Citi, StanChart, HSBC and Lloyds. The bank street at Bur Dubai and the bank street at Sharjah in the late 90’s got their names from the many banks that stood on either part of the street. As time progressed, slowly banks moved to their private properties at well located places in and around the cities in these emirates.
Dubai was to the asian nationalities, a land of great promise, just as the US was at one time to other nationalities all over the world. There were plenty of jobs in the construction, petroleum and trading industry. Moreover, Dubai was setting up a lot of shopping malls to give company to the lonely Al Ghurair Shopping Center. Slowly you could choose from Burjuman at Bur Dubai and Citi Centre at Deira with a host of major ones coming on Shaikh Zayed. Roundabouts gave way to signals, and the famous Fire roundabout and the fish roundabouts were memories. The cinema houses that ranged from Dubai to Deira Cinemas as well as the Strand and Al Nasr Leisureland and the Galleria at Hyatt got more company as multiplexes opened in the major shopping complexes that sprung up giving more choice and comfort. With time, some of the old cinema houses were either pulled down or got converted to business complexes. Hamriya Vegetable and Meat market was well planned, but because of the traffic congestion and difficulty to upscale and being difficult to access, the market got shifted by 2005 to another location near the Al Ain roundabout.
The shopping festival was another attraction for all residents and was a shopping feast that got the approval of all traders who participated in it. With festivals and their raffle draws that evinced a lot of interest at the creek park, people came from far and near to get a glimpse of the various cultural programmes and the fun and fair activities usually associated with exhibition fairs.
GITEX and other exhibitions were well received, and the diary of events started becoming full for a resident to be kept busy after office hours..
By 2005, the new downtown had emerged and the expansion plans filled up both sides of the Shaikh Zayed road with more shopping malls and apartment complexes. Accommodation and business projects expanded up until one could see the gates of Jebel Ali port. Previously a car drive to Abu Dhabi was lonely as one would leave the World Trade Center behind along with a dozen towers on each side.
By becoming a tourist destination on the world map and a trading port, with a couple of free port, internet city and countless hotels, Dubai has finally arrived on the tourist map with a lot of variety for a tourist to choose once he or she lands on the sands of the emirate.
Dubai is vibrant and one can feel the sense of urgency in expansion in the vision of the rulers which is so evident if one just looks at the projects that have come in the period from 2006 to 2013. The trail blazer projects be it the Airport, the Burj Khalifa, the Metro and the umpteen interchanges and construction buzz has made it clear that Dubai is a product of the well laid out planning supported by principles that have a deep-seated foundation and perhaps so because the city and all its inhabitants believe in hard work and progress for all. But for its founders, it is still a work in progress…
All the while in the tour bus, you were fed up of all the hard talk among the tourists and wished you had some peace to yourself, for which you had opted to come along this tour to the forest lined by river tributaries and a lot of green foliage you had wised to see. From the town to the forest was a good 40 miles of beaten track which wobbled your internals as the bus tried its best to grip the undergrowth that had become so slushy with overnight rains.
You never were interested to get yourself muddied and dirty as you had forgotten a fresh set of clothes in the town hotel that closely resembled a war shelter of the 50’s. The decibel levels of the crowd in the bus had come down, as some were starting to shift their observation out of the windows rather than talking and observing their occupants inside.
A few bends where the bus almost toppled sent a section of the crowd including you on to others who resisted much as they could, only to see themselves thrown off on to others at the next bend. Whatever was eaten at the restaurant seemed to churn inside and threaten to make itself made known to the outside world, because of this rollicking ride.
With a few more upward rides around narrow streams lined with boulders, the driver stopped the bus, as if anchoring itself near a river that passed right across its path. This was where we were to alight, as the path had disappeared under the river. The flow on the top seemed calm but there seemed to be a current that could drag one along, were one to step into it.
The group broke up into different directions after the babel of tongues had stopped, and each one including you wanted to have a shot at solitude and silence. Hark! what was that, a huge eagle scampered across the trees upon the arrival of your footsteps on the foliage of dried leaves, the rustle which seemed deafening in the silence of the retreat. The crowd and the bus was far left behind as one had the time to take a look around . Also, everyone had been alerted to reach the bus in 3 hours time for the return back to the shady township.
There were a lot of rivulets, streaming branches of the main waterway, causing you to make a lot of diversions in your path among the trees, where the descent down to another attractive tributary had you almost running down, so much so, that you had to apply all brakes to stop yourself falling headlong into the river. But fall you did, with your hands supporting and arresting your fall. When you got yourself up, your hands were full of mud. You walked a few steps, where you could wash them in the flowing waters. There seemed to be a lot of fish, in various colors and shapes, scampering away, as your form appeared to them. The crystal clear water was tempting enough to take a drink out of it with your now cleaned and cupped hands.
Rejuvenated by the refreshing drink, you take your camera, a prized possession of any tourist, and start shooting pictures. You step carefully to the edge of the water to take your best shots, at the delightful nature around. You walk along the banks, as the ground is a bit steep to take you back along the path from where you had descended. Enjoying the unfolding flora, you have now left your bus and fellow passengers a mile away. But then there is a lot of time to go back, as you survey your new surroundings that present itself to you. A few butterflies appear as if from nowhere, and as you train your camera, they vanish into thin air. The way has given way to white gravel, rounded ones, large as potatoes, that you have to be careful while you step on them in your progress with your shoes now wet and beyond repair.
It is now, as you near a bend, that your eyes fall upon a canoe, long discarded by some native who might have lived nearby and or had drifted himself to this very spot, and would have abandoned it in search of food, as water along cannot sustain one for long. This seemed to you, once in a lifetime opportunity, as there was an oar that seemed to roar at you to get in, and have the ride across the placid waters of the river now getting wider as it wended its way along. You step into the canoe, which appear wet at the bottom. Throwing all caution to the winds, you get in, seat yourself comfortably amidst the drenched leaves that you had placed as a cushion, you now take the oar and start to row as you had seen rowers throw their arms in the television. Rowing seemed easy partly because the oar was a far cry from its original weight, eager to learn the new skill, you pace the canoe along the bank, keeping it best away from drifting towards the center of the river which appeared to have increased its vigor. The sun was making a hurrying exit made easy by the mountains that now seemed to converge on to the river path. It all seemed to be a perfect setting to enjoy a vacation, until now.
Suddenly, as if the curtains came down, rain bearing clouds stretched itself up the river path ready to welcome you, you who had never accounted for this turn of events, the breeze made way to the wind, which started beating down on your face with droplets of rain that hurt you as you tried to take cover. There was some amount of panic creeping somewhere in you, as the canoe now started to have a life of its own and started cruising along the center and the rain came down heavily. You tried your best to row yourself out of this pandemonium that had started like an orchestra, but tired arms was failing to nature’s fury. You forgot the camera, the bus and the tourists and wished you had stayed put with the crowd instead of venturing yourself out along into a misadventure that would soon culminate with the canoe and your sinking soon. The canoe was going at full horse power, as if an engine had been put on it, but with the rain water beating down, it was fast becoming a vessel full of water.
The only escape out of all this mess was now to jump out of it and swim across to the bank right or left you cared not, for life seemed to be weighing itself up and down based on your decision that you would make now right or wrong you would leave it last to decide. But you never were a good swimmer and always at school knew best how to sink in the pool after paddling with your hands and legs for a few minutes. The depth of this river you could never fathom, if you would jump now, but there was no time for analyzing your pros and cons and how you would fare once you were in the cold running water. How you wished you had stayed at home rather than recklessly scan your brain now at its wits end. There appeared a long log of wood which looked to have got stuck in the drift and this seemed to be a perfect opportunity to jump. Jump you did as there was no moment to lose, now trying your best to swim to the branch and just as you appeared yourself sinking down, you caught hold of the frail branch and crawling on all four limbs, all the while wishing your had long nails on your hands and your feet was webbed as you reached the firm ground on the bank. It now dawned upon you in the fast approaching dusk, that you had lost yourself in nature and had to wait till help arrived after your desperate SOS call from your cell had luckily reached the tour operator…
Cotton Green if you are hearing it for the first time is a railway station on the harbour line that plies through Mumbai..Is it green with Cotton? You might ask. It seems that the name was coined because of the Cotton Exchange building in the east that came up in 1924 and the sprawling warehouses that used to store the grains from the goods rail road. That is where we grew up in the 70’s. Most of the buildings in the Abhyudaya nagar comprised of 4 storeyed ones being home to atleast 90 tenants in each. The ground floors of some of them had shops. In the 70’s Cotton Green was a pretty sight. The bullock carts carrying kerosene and ice blocks, the kulfiwalas(ice cream vendors) and the salt vendor all on hand pulled carts. Cars were a rarity so as to say even though you had good roads everywhere, the big sprawling mota (means big in marathi) maidan now renamed to Shahid Bhagat Singh maidan where good cricket tournaments were held. During the summer vacations, you could see atleast 30 active cricket pitches where different groups drawn from the various buildings around used to play. If not attentive you would be fielding for a team other than yours, not to speak of the hits you used to get from the various balls from all quarters. During the rainy season, the ground would be transformed to football playing ground. During a long lasting shower, this could become a mixture of fine clay, that one get the inclination to become a potter.
Where is Cotton Green? It is on the postal radar 400 033 and this article is meant to be a short guide to Cotton Green. The roads in Cotton Green used to get flooded during torrential rains causing us to wade in the waters. The main road parallel to the Cotton Green railway station used to resemble a raging river especially when trucks plied through the water way. Those were pretty and sometimes horrible sights, to memorise, especially when some of us use to fall struck by such generated ‘tidal waves’.
There were a lot of colonies in this area, a great community of people living in M.H.B colony, Bombay dock labour colony (BDLB), Bombay Port Trust quarters, the Police quarters and so on. Since most of the buildings had atleast one of our school mate staying, the whole area of around 6 square kilometers used to be one big playground. There were instances of parents sending out other kids as patrols to locate their wards.
Notable places included the Cotton Exchange buildings standing as ramparts of the olden British era, the popular soothing Ram Temple, The inaccessible Air Force station in Cotton Green east. Towards the back of the cotton exchange was the ship container yard where we used to play and study. In fact the godown or the so called warehouses areas had study groups where some members including me used to be seen perched on trees and studying. Come exam season, you would see atleast 100 plus students studying either sitting, walking or as said earlier, in trees or sitting on the old platforms for goods trains in the ware houses section. We used to walk up to the next station – Reay Road while studying. Every day we used to walk atleast 4 kilometers.
The Abhyudaya Education Society High School, Ahilya Vidya Mandir, The Shivaji Vidyalaya and the Municipal School were the most prominent schools in the Cotton Green area, from where most of us did our education.
The most prominent festivals were Ganesh Utsav, Janmashtami, Diwali and Holi. Abhyudaya Sarvajanik Ganesh Utsav Mandal and the one in the Cotton exchange now referred to as Cotton cha Raja, were the most prominent Ganesh mandals. We were close to Lalbaug where we had Lalbaug cha Raja and Ganesh Galli at a distance of 15 minute walk.
Famous Family Doctor was Dr. S.R. Pandit who used to commute from dadar area and was always present in his clinic at Building 33 at sharp 9:00 AM. He should have treated atleast more than 10000 patients in his time in our area. I recall, he was one of the very few persons of that time who owned a car. A blue Premier Padmini.
Another Doctor was Dr. Hegde at Abhyudaya Nagar at his Dental Clinic. Over the years, the dental specialist has taken good care to root and canal himself among the local community.
The Lalit Kala Bhavan at Cotton Green came in the early eighties thus creating one more avenue for pastime. Another one was the nearby Jijamata gardens at Byculla where we used to go even without slippers even though it was a good 30 minute walk. Sometimes most of us children used to come down to play without footwear and take a decision there and then to visit “Rani baug” as it was called in those days, the moment we had some money with us. The entry fee was only 10 paise at that time.
During our walk in those hot afternoons, we had to run or jog, as the smooth tar resembled burning coals atleast for our tender feet. In the summer we used to trail the bullock carts carrying ice, so that the vendor when he used to remove the saw dust and cut the ice with his knife, we used to collect the pieces and gobble them up.
We were also welcome/unwelcome visitors to wedding parties in and around Abhyudaya Nagar, especially to savour the ice cream and the cool drinks that were served. I rarely remember of having ventured deep inside the reception hall to see the bride or the groom during those parties.
For long term residents and people looking out for traders in Cotton Green this might come handy to relive nostalgic memories..
Ration Shops, especially, the one in Building 33 and 32 on Shrikant Hadkar Marg was always busy with queue of about atleast 50 people especially when the kerosene cart drawn by bullocks from Sewri Oil terminal used to make their port of call. During my school years, i used to chip in helping the dealer dole out grains especially when his only assistant had his hands full.
Dinesh Medical Stores was another big medical shop in those days and looked very neat as all medicines and other items were well arranged, and the assistants at the store looked professional.
2 Irani restaurants dotted the G.D Ambedkar junction to Shrikant Hadkar marg. It was a nice joint with rickety chairs and marble tops and most of us would order bun maska and lemon soda. The lemon soda was a combination of good old days Dukes Lemonade with a soda. This combination was enough for a gang of 3 or 4. Tea, also ordered as cutting chai was popular for a quick meeting between comrades, be it college mates or medical representatives.
Amar Opticians & Watch Co. was always a shop to watch at, especially when things could go wrong with your time pieces or wrist watches or clocks.
Tasgaonkar Egg & Chicken Shop on Shrikant Hadkar Marg(Road) was a favourite place to shop for eggs and chicken.
Metro Stores was a good place to shop for school stationery and books, especially at night, when we discovered to our horror, that one of our notebooks was full, or the ink pot was empty.
Town Stationary another shop close by to Metro that you could depend on, for school stationary items, especially text books.
Pals Hotel on G.D Ambedkar Marg the only hotel at that time and still standing.
Mumbai Photo frames on G.D Ambedkar Marg(Road) was a favorite haunt for religious people to frame their favourite pictures or marvel at the photos of gods and goddesses..
Laxmi Jewellers another favourite place for shoppers of gold and silver jewellery..and
if you had trouble reading this blog, it is time you visited Amar Opticians on Shrikant Hadkar Marg.
Thanks for reading, and let me know your comments 🙂
Perceptions 