Mumbai Coffee House

Scene 1: I had gone to pay local taxes at a government office in Bandra a few days back. I was directed to a table where there was no-one else waiting. I went up to the officer at the desk and submitted our papers. He keyed in the details in to his computer. The results flashed immediately. I gave our cheque, so far so good. Then the officer pointed out that the cheque was Rs 12 (twelve) more than what was due. We looked at each other and tried to figure out what has to be done. Suddenly an elderly corpulent gentleman came and sidled up and stood beside me. I waited a for a couple of seconds. I thought he might have a question for the officer. I looked at the encroacher. He smiled at me. There was no-one behind me and yet he stood beside me. I looked at him and said, 'do you mind standing behind me? We are discussing something here.' He smiled at me and said, 'no problem, I will wait.' I drew my breath and said, 'can you please stand in the queue while we...

We were headed to town for lunch on the 7th of Feb. Almost three weeks back. We stopped at a traffic signal at Bandra Reclamation opposite the Candies turn. The road was largely empty. Suddenly there was a jolt from the back and a very loud sound. Turned out that a woman driving a silver coloured Santro had banged into our car which was stationary. We were sitting at the rear seat and were quite shaken up. We got down to check the damages. Despite the loud noise and the impact we seemed to be ok. No visible damages to us. Our car seemed to be fine too. The lady driving the car that banged into us was quite shaken up herself. She got off and kept apologizing to us. Her car seemed to be more bruised than ours even though she had banged into us. I got back into the car. I decided not to get into a fight or argument. Didn’t see the point. Didn’t want to spoil the day. So I barely spoke to her, glared and went away. When we came home that evening we figured out that things were ...

The barber shop traditionally was a  man's last bastion of serenity. A place away from domestic chores and feminine wiles. A place to talk about man stuff. The barber often multi-tasking as a shrink. My genes tell me that haircuts are one thing that I don't need to set aside money for in my retirement fund. A few more haircuts and soon that's one thing that won't need to be ticked on the to do list. Which is how I explain spending a ridiculously high amount for haircuts.  I don't know if I want to name the place I go to. Simply because I am sure they would like folks with thicker manes to be their brand ambassadors.  It's an airy, glass and chrome place, young folks in black, lounge music that I recognize from the gym.    There are no barbers here. There are stylists. I had a 'stylist' for the last couple of years. S was the exact  opposite of the swarthy barbers of yore. Over time our conversations became interesting. T...

This is an e that I got from a twitter friend who only DM's or e's me. Interesting perspective "Really nice to read about your pleasant experiences at good ole Candy's. I witnessed something peculiar a few days ago - was on my way back into town, decided to stop at (big) Candy's & buy a cup of coffee to keep me awake on the drive home. A young lad, possibly in his late 20s - girlfriend in tow, literally shouted at the guy behind the counter. Why? Because they had run out of the items he wanted to order. Reached a point where I thought he might actually jump over the counter and molest the staff. Funny how Bandra has changed. Wasn't like this less than 4 years ago. Ah well, proof that I am indeed, an old fart. Cheerio'"  K: Well, that makes it two of us. When the crowd at Candies gets too much, I walk away. You can't hang them for their popularity

Met a Social Media friend from Delhi for the first time last weekend. We met up at Gloria Jean's, Bandra, for a short while. A place which he confessed to love. I like Gloria Jean's too. As does my wife and many others. I pass the road in front of Gloria Jean's on the way to work everyday. At times I try to grab a bite in the car and sip a juice as I am not the sort who wants the worm in any case. Problem is that I have to wait for the stretch to get over before I start eating. Its pot holes and pockmarks would make the food somersault in your tummy. Never a good idea. I was hoping that they would fix it when Obama came to Mumbai. Then he flew down to South Mumbai and we were left with audacious hope. Most of the houses at Bandra resemble the road that I described - old, damp walls, peeling paint, tired plumbing, pre-liberalisation flooring, badly planned, dark, dank and small. Yet, here are some interesting things I found out through hearsay. My friend who lives at G...

There was a slightly old Economic Times lying around in our bedroom. I glanced upon what was written on it as I was tidying up. The article was about Gollman Sach's take on the BRIC countries. 'I' standing for India. And how these would dominate the word even faster than earlier predicted. Those of us who work in multinational companies would have possibly come across the spiel about how India is the future and how everyone's excited about the 'India story'. You would have heard the same people going gaga about the service in Jet Airways when they come here. And you are probably reading this post on a state of the art laptop or phone. The latest the world has to offer. But a look out of the window of your home, office or car shows a very different world outside. And I am not even talking about the in your face poverty. Poverty we have learnt to blank ourselves to. Poverty which bothers us only when an Irishman refers to it while winning making an Oscar winn...

It's been a cruel summer. And the heat has made people do strange things. Like join a gym in my case. I am no stranger to the word of gyms (note to self: the surprise element should come at the end of a post) . From akhara like non air conditioned places to the college gym which I think had the same equipment which Netaji had used to strengthen his legs before he kicked the Brit prof down the Presidency stairs to suave gyms at Mumbai and fancy ones in luxury hotels. Then my back gave in during a holiday and I got an excuse to stay away. But I would look at gyms occasionally. Especially when I would see the disturbingly rotund figures of food show hosts on Indian TV channels. Very different from the Bourdains the Majumdars and the Chins. Checked with my Ortho. My last hope. The cherubic and corpulent gent smiled and said "of course you can go". So I did a round of local gyms a few idle Saturdays back. Was hounded with SMSs and calls from them since. Two months f...

One tends to hear a lot of English when one moves around in Bandra , the posh suburb of Mumbai . Especially during the rare occasions when one goes to walk at Carter Road. The mind tends to wander and eavesdrop on others as one walks aimlessly in a straight line. I would safely say that more than ninety per cent of the conversations one overhears happen in English. All sorts of 'English'. From prim and propah Queen's to Bombaiya Slumdog pidgin to LOL Twitter chirps. In accents which would make Bernard Shaw's Henry Higgins roll his shirt sleeves up in glee. The accents floating around are fascinating. You have a very American FRIENDS twang which seems most ludicrous on young brown skins to English with heavy Indian regional accents. The world of politics is a good example of the latter. You recently had Dada and Didi ( Pranab Mukherjee and Mamata Banerjee ) presenting the National and Railway budgets. Both were pilloried by many, including embarrassed Bengalis , ...

Pali Hill is considered to be one of the poshest addresses in Mumbai . This is in Bandra . Considered to be the poshest and most expensive suburb in Mumbai . You have all the Khans and Kapoors living here. I suspect that the tax collections from this suburb is amongst the highest in Mumbai . Yet it took me close to twenty five minutes to drive down from the base of Pali Hill to Bandra P O which is less than a kilometre away on Saturday morning. Chaotic traffic. Cars tottering like battered prize fighters. Autos whizzing past like mosquitoes. Pedestrians crawling all over except on the footpath. And people dragging handcarts oblivious to all. Not a policeman in sight. What really livened up the madness was the fact that roads had been dug up. There was no advance notice. So you reached your turning and realised that you could no go further as the road was dug up. You had to turn back into the snaking traffic. You would be really lucky if the person opposite you had the sense, p...