Thursday, April 29, 2010

City Life – Kandivali Style

Bombay – the Gateway to India and the riches of the East India Company is a city that sits on India’s west coast. In the late 1800s and early 1900s the British invested a lot of money in the city’s infrastructure turning it into a magnet for the young and the ambitious.

Several young men came to Bombay to find their fortunes. Many of them came from little villages and towns from the State of Gujarat. And most of them found their way to a little part of town called Bhuleshwar. My maternal great grandfather was one of these young men. So also was my paternal grandmother's father. My mother grew up there, and my father spent a few years of his youth sleeping in the balcoy of one of Bhuleshwar's crammed tenements.

Over the years, Bhuleshwar transformed itself into one of India’s largest wholesale markets. And less than 150 years after it was formed, Bhuleshwar had burst at its seams, incapable of supporting the very large community of traders and commerce that it had given birth to.

It has been said, and not entirely in jest, that if you were to simply stand still in Bhuleshwar – you would soon find yourself in a different part of town, propelled there by the sea of humanity that inhabits it. In 1970, it had a density of 1500 people per acre (contrast that with .5 per acre in little known Stormville).

Several of the markets have been moved to other parts of town. And new generations of Gujaratis are moving out to the distant suburbs where they can have a little more room to raise their families.
Kandivali is one such suburb in Western Mumbai. Instead of the crammed 150 sq ft tenements, they now live in 1000 sq ft skyscrapers, most with little lawns and gardens. In the evening the men and women congregate in the compound in groups, recreating that lost sense of community they had in the old neighborhood.

I’ve been spending a lot of time in an area called Mahavir Nagar as I shuttle between my parents home and that of my sister-in-law. Actually, its probably even just a subset of Mahavir Nagar, because it is just one big block of buildings.

And I am fascinated by the mom-and-pop stores that line the streets. You can find everything one could possibly want in Mahavir Nagar. There is the grocery store that carries normal Guju vegetables as well as exotic things like mushrooms, asparagus and yellow peppers. There is the fruit store with its fruit juice vending area – hand squeezed in front of you mosambi juice for ten rupees or 25cents. Fresh jalebis, mithai, pau bhaji, the Bombay sandwich walla, vada pau, furniture, farsan, a dairy store, an optician, printing and copying shop, photographer, wedding supplies, supplies for a religious ceremony, dry goods, clothes, a liquor store that carries champagne, supplies for funerals – the list is only as short as my imagination.

I don’t feel like I’m in some big alien city – no the sounds, the smells it is all familiar, and strangely, despite my alien looks and clothes I feel a part of this community. My mom does too... perhaps it is just a more spacious, modern version of Bhuleshwar.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

No More Books ?

Read an article today about how the iPad and the Kindle are changing the book publishing indusry completely. I must confess to feeling rather sad by the news.

For despite all my talk about a paperless office and how we must embrace technology, I like having my stories delivered to me in a good sized book. There is a sense of comfort, a sense of taking me back to a favorite place,  that a book delivers, that I've just not been able to get with a digital book. Perhaps because the book is there even after the power fails, the book is not as fragile as the digital version, and it takes effort to destroy. Perhaps that is why it conveys a sense of permanence and authoritythat I have not been able to get from a digital book.

And yet, have I really tried ? Do I really know what the digital book has to offer, and how it could change my reading experience ?

I saw a Kindle once and loved it. I had no use for it, because the Amazon network has not extended to India, so it would be a pretty static library out here.

Perhaps it is the return to India that has allowed me to get a grip on the mad dash to digitality and appreciate the more traditonal or legacy stuff.

Whatever it is, I do know, that when I dreamed of writing a book - I intended for it to be a paper book, one that I could hold in my hand and display, not a digital version. And then again - I'm having so much fun blogging!

Friday, April 2, 2010

The Yoga Lesson

Dhruti, the intrepid niece that got me blogging, sent me a link to Home Yoga instructors in Bangalore. People who would come to your house and teach you yoga. "Its the only way," she said , "that you will excercise. So go and do it. " I read her email, felt good and moved on to the next email.

She called me up the day after mom and dad arrived and reminded me - "Did you call those people... ?" Since the right arm, shoulder and neck was suffering from a severe case of mouse-itis an affliction resulting from overworking the mouse (on a computer keyboard), I thought I should do something. What have I to lose ? I'll hate them anyway and that will be the end of it.

The instructors arrived the next morning to introduce themselves, discuss and negotiate. The yoga lessons started a day later. I got suddenly very interested when I heard that one of Supriya's skills is Yoga Nidra - the aspect of Yoga that helps you get into a state of deep and relaxed sleep.

So she arrived yesterday, and we had a reasonably good session. Papa had his lesson, and came out feeling very energized and refreshed . She showed him excercises that started to get his blood circulating. But mummy was a whole different matter.

Mummmy showed Supriya all the excercises she had done that morning (since no one has actually witnessed her doing them, we don't know for sure - but then we have no reason to doubt her). Supriya said she thought that that was just enough for one day. She suggested a few improvement in techniques and then proceeded to discuss recipes, life and other more interesting things.

Mummy told me that she would prefer to have her Yoga lesson in the afternoon, cos the mornings seemed so packed!!! I told her that would be tough, cos i needed to have my lesson in the morning. She said she understood.

Supriya told me at the end of the yoga lesson, that mummy was going to give her cooking classes in the afternoon, and she would try to stop by 2-3 times a week, and no I did not need to pay extras, she was doing it cos she needed to learn how to cook!.

The Aundh Connection

This is a long but fascinating story... I urge you to tolerate the meanderings of my mind.

So while mom was having her yoga lesson this morning, papa and I were sitting in the living room and chatting. He was telling me about how he first learnt about Surya Namaskar when he was about 12 years old. He learnt it from an instructor who had come to teach Yoga to the Maharaja of Tehri-Garhwal.

Now if you've been following these stories carefully, you might have picked up that my Great Grandfather Ghanshyam Das was a Judge in Agra. In the early 1930s my grandfather, Brijbhushan Das - a lawyer, gave up his practice in Agra and moved to Haldwani to become a farmer. Dad stayed with Ghanshyam Das in Agra to continue his studies. A few years into this, Ghanshyam Das started to travel to Tehri to advise the Maharajah. Dad spent a couple of years in Tehri as the guest of the Maharajah.

A delegation from Aundh had arrived at the palace in the Garhwal mountains, leaving behind the Marathi speaking Yoga instructor. The Raja of Aundh - Appasaheb Pant - had a passion for the Surya Namaskar and the Maharajah of Garhwal ensured that not only did he and his family learn how to perform it, but so did all the visitors and guests at his court, including papa who at that point knew nothing about Yoga, Marathi or Aundh.

Hmm.... I said.. wasn't there a movie or something, I said ?

"Ahh yes", he said. "You know I first learned about photography when I was in Tehri. I had never seen photographs before. But all these royals were constantly being photographed, and that is where I developed an interest in still photography and motion picture".

So all those pictures we have chronicling our lives -that is all thanks to the Maharajah of Tehri...

"But Aundh....?"

"Oh yes, years later when I came to Mumbai, I decided to acquire a motion picture projector to display his 16mm movies. He had traded his Rolliflex still camera for Raval kaka's (a neighbor in Nutan Nagar) 1600mm motion picture camera. Raval kaka was a professional photographer, and it is hard to understand what he was doing with the 1600mm camera in the first place, especially if he did not have a projector to display his movies.

Anyway, papa had been looking at the shops in Opera House. Nothing was fitting the budget that he and mom had carved out for this.

One day a shopkeeper told him about a used projector that his neighbor was disposing off. Address in hand, Papa tracked down the Nepali watchman who had been given the task of disposing off the equipment. The Nepali watchman had just sold it to a shopkeeper in Chor Bazaar. Papa followed the trail to Chor Bazaar and found the next shopkeeper. This fellow had bought it just to show his kids movies.

Papa bought the projector and all the movies the guy had for Rs 400, a princely sum that was almost equal to a month's salary. He loaded into the car and brought him - and that is how come every one of my birthdays from the time I is captured in Ektachrome color.

"But Aundh..?" "Oh yes, in the stack of movies I brought back from Chor Bazaar there were 3 or 4 in which I recognized the Maharajah of Aundh, whom I had met briefly at the palace in Garhwal. There was even one which showed Pandit Nehru arriving at the Aundh railway station and being greeted by a group of lejim players and then reviewing a group of people performing the Surya Namaskar. Appa Pant's passion for Surya Namaskars was very well known by then, and he himself was a public figure." This was in the late 1950s.

These movies sat in our home in Bandra alongside my birthday movies, and movies recording our trips to Haldwani and Nainital and movies of weddings of my uncles and aunts. Cos dad was quite the avid photographer back them, and our home was equipped with all kinds of audio-visual equipment.

Years went by the 16mm projector was traded in for 8mm and then Super 8 before succumbing to the Analog Video Camera and most recently the Digital Video camera. Meanwhile this set of movies sat there being dusted occasionally and people saying "What is that ?" And mom going "Do not ask, it is your fathers and he won't let me throw it out.".

In the late 80s, papa was spending a lot of time in Pune - his company did a lot of business in rural Maharashtra. One day, the cab driver asked him if he would like to go to Pimpri via Aundh. "Aundh ? As in the Maharaja of Aundh ?" "No no sir, that Maharajah lives in another place. Yes, I know that place. In fact I know the Maharajah. " "Oh ?" "Yes, I park my cab opposite his house. The Maharajah is an avid gardener, and he likes to work in the garden. So I've even talked to him sometimes."

So papa asked the cab driver to bring the Maharajah of Aundh aka Appasaheb Pant a letter describing the movies he had in his position and where he could be reached. Appasaheb called him almost immediately upon receiving the letter. Told him he wasn't aware of any such movies. They agreed that papa would bring them the next time he came to Pune.

Appasaheb was delighted with the movies. He called up papa and thanked him for restoring what he could only describe as a family treasure. Those old movies were so precious and irreplaceable. He was convinced that he and papa must have a connection from another lifetime. Papa and mommy got invited to several events featuring Appasaheb in Bombay. And Appasaheb gifted papa with a copy of every book that he had ever had published. And everyone felt very good.

And then everyone went back to the way things were, until this morning when we started talking about Surya Namaskars!!! So if you've ever been irritated with having to pose for a photo and wait for Uttam bhai to compose the right shot, or for papa to get the light just right - we know we have the Maharajah of Aundh to thank for that. Just as much as we do for all the beautiful photos and movies that have chronicled the lives of the Chokseys and the Shahs.  That dear people is the Aundh connection.