Arnala Island

5-Star Chai vs. 5-Rupee Chai

I’m not much of a chai person, I like my coffee. However, I do enjoy a roadside cutting once in a while.

But I was really excited when my group was asked to sip tea as a task—first, from the Trident Hotel at Nariman Point; and then from a roadside tapri at Dharavi (the world's biggest slum area).

Like all JM tasks so far, I hadn’t been to any of these places before, neither had my two teammates. So we gleefully set out on what was bound to be yet another thrilling excursion.

As soon as we reached Andheri Station at 11am, we knew that the five minutes spent in front of the mirror at JM, readying ourselves to enter a five-star hotel, were going down the drain.

11am isn’t exactly a peak hour, but this was Andheri Station after all.

As the Churchgate Fast drew into the platform, passengers began hopping off the still moving train, which is a norm. One chap lost his footing after jumping off and went crashing into another one’s suitcase.

We squeezed into the second class compartment as the duo began describing each other’s mothers and sisters.

Mothers and sisters seemed to be the hot topic in the jam-packed general compartment as we shoved our way through.

The rule of thumb in a crowded general (men’s) compartment is to not come face-to-face (read middle-to-middle) with one another while squeezing through, for obvious reasons.

A young lad who flouted the rule was in for it as he got ridiculed by a clearly testy (excuse the pun) passenger.

The compartment began to clear up after Mumbai Central and we finally got a place to sit for the last 10 minutes of the journey. Drenched in the humidity and sweat, I decided to catch some breeze at the entrance of the compartment.

After getting off at Churchgate, with our shirts clearly crumpled and soaked in sweat, we decided to walk down the breezy Marine Drive to the Trident.

Marine Drive (click to enlarge)

Security was tight in the compound of the hotel, what with the Delhi High Court blast the previous day. It was then that we realized that this wasn’t the best day to visit a five-star hotel in South Mumbai which has been at the brunt of terrorist activity in the past.

We attempted to speak to a security guard who was screening the baggage outside the entrance. He was understandably apprehensive of divulging any information and asked us to speak to his duty manager. When we pressed him further, one of his colleagues came over and shooed us away.

Oh, to be a journalist!

After giving up on the security guards, we entered the main lobby of the hotel. The doorman and the concierge checked us out from head to toe and shot us condescending looks. What are these young ruffians doing here and what will Mr. Donald and Mr. Trump think?

We asked for the café and were guided to this ritzy lounge overlooking Marine Drive, flanked with comfy-looking chairs and couches. We placed ourselves by the window and were silently admiring the ambience of the place when a courtly attendant came to take our order.

The cafe lounge at Trident (click to enlarge)

When all three of us ordered tea, he was kind enough to offer two teas in three cups, seeing as we were students. He asked us to have a look at the breakfast menu on display, which was priced at a cool Rs. 900. We politely declined.

As we waited for our tea to arrive, we silently observed the patrons of the café. There were businessmen dressed in trousers and sports jackets, tourists in tee-shirts and shorts, and Indian families dressed for a wedding.

Whatever the attire of the patrons, it was an atmosphere that spelled out exclusivity.

Even we tried to gel in with the crowd and picked up the International Herald Tribune (priced Rs. 30) and one of the many pink-sheeted newspapers on display.

Our tea soon arrived in what looked like expensive china. All the ingredients were separated and were to be added according to your liking and taste.

The tea was served steaming hot and had a rich aroma. We downed five cups among the three of us, which was more to finish the whole pot, knowing that each drop would cost us no less than Rs. 50! But, it was good tea, nonetheless.

The attendant then came up and asked us how the tea was. After giving him a positive feedback, we chatted with him a little.

His name was Ravi Shankar (sans the Shri Shri) and he hailed from Kerala. He revealed that he was the senior supervisor of the joint and made Rs. 40,000 per month—a respectable amount. The 52-year-old travelled from Powai every day to the Trident. He was pretty amicable to us ruffians, unlike some of the hotel’s other employees.

We asked him if we could talk to some of the other patrons of the café. He refused, saying that it would disturb their privacy.

After thanking Mr. Shankar for his hospitality, and footing a Rs. 300 bill for a pot of what was, apparently, Assam Tea, we walked over to the reception, hoping to catch someone who was willing to talk.

We were met with the same reply dished out to us by the security guards—Talk to the duty manager. This chap was nowhere to be seen.

We let ourselves out of the hotel, a little flustered with the cold, inhospitable attitude tossed at us by majority of the hotel’s employees. But we could understand their stance, which was coming from a purely precautionary motive.

We saw a Gucci store in the premises of the hotel. Hoping to find some candidness in there, we walked in.

We were greeted by a smiling, pretty, young girl whose face was covered with 15 layers of makeup. After introducing ourselves, she willingly took us around the store, describing the products and sections on display.

The store was chic and oozed with elegance and class. The products and the fashion line was swankly displayed and made you want to try something on. Some of the tee-shirts were very modish, so I checked the label for the price. It took an admirable effort on my part to prevent my jaw from dropping after reading “Rs. 15,500” on the tag.

The young store-attendant, Natasha Andrews, told us that the store was frequented by many Indians, including the crème-de-la-crème of Mumbai. Surprisingly, very few foreigners visited the store.

Ms. Andrews was a little surprised when we asked her questions about herself, and not the brand. She only revealed that she was 25 years of age and worked there as a fashion consultant. Thanking her, we promised to put in a good word about Gucci.

We left the store admiring the elite culture in South Bombay, or SoBo. It wasn’t as if we never had an idea about it. It’s just that we underestimated their affluence, which could pay for a Rs. 900 breakfast and a Rs. 15,000 tee-shirt.

After grabbing a quick lunch near Churchgate station, we headed towards Dharavi for the second leg of our task.

We were asked to find a Papadwali chawl in Dharavi and have chai from a nearby roadside stall.

On reaching the Sion-Bandra Link Road, which is on the outskirts of Dharavi, we stepped into Dharavi’s main Police Station to ask for directions. A kind, old policeman instructed us on how to reach the heart of Dharavi.

We followed his directions and soon found ourselves in one of the narrow lanes of Dharavi. We spotted another small Police Chowki and asked for specific directions to Papadwali chawl.

The policemen there told us that there wasn’t any chawl by that name. However, there were chawls where people, more specifically women, laid out papads in the sun to dry.

Assuming it was the same place, we followed their directions deeper into Dharavi.

One of the first points of difference from the first leg that struck us, other than, obviously, the surroundings, was the accommodating and cooperative attitude of the people.

From the policemen to shopkeepers to random pedestrians, everyone took a personal interest in helping us find the way. We could see that it was a genuine desire in them that wanted to help us and not any monetary motive.

We soon spotted a few papads laid out on inverted baskets in the sun to dry. We followed their trail deeper into the Dharavi until we reached the house of Mr. Anil Karpe.

Papads kept out to dry (click to enlarge)

Mr. Karpe, 47, works at Omega Engineering in Andheri East and earns Rs. 7000 per month. His wife rolls out papads the whole day to make ends meet.

Mr. Karpe informed us that papad companies like Lijjat and RK supply the dough to housewives across Dharavi and collect the finished product at the end of the day. They pay Rs. 26 per kg as a standard rate across the area.

Mr. Karpe said that one kg could encompass 90 small papads and 64 big papads. Since his wife wasn’t in the house at the time, he took us across to his neighbour’s house where three women were rolling out papads.

Ambika Devi, one of the women, said she rolls out 5-7kgs of papads every day to make ends meet. The 23-year-old’s day starts at 6am every day and ends at around 11pm. After finishing the household chores by 10am, she sits making papads till 5pm and then gets back to managing the house. She is helped by her mother-in-law and her sister-in-law in making the papads and said that she earns around Rs. 200 as profit each day for her efforts.

Mrs. Devi then showed us how they used a stove to dry the papads in the monsoon when there isn’t enough sunlight.

Papads being dried by a  stove

After thanking Mrs. Devi, we chatted with Mr. Karpe some more. He informed us that many such households do not have a man to fend for the family. He said that many men lost their lives to alcohol, fights and the likes, and left it to the women to make ends meet. Ms. Devi’s was one such household.

We thanked Mr. Karpe for his warmth and hospitality, and left the premises with a satisfied, yet stunned, look on our faces.

As we sipped a refreshing five-rupee chai at a nearby stall to complete our task, we reflected on the number of times we had enjoyed a Lijjat papad, unaware of the arduous, monotonous, and highly unyielding labour and sacrifice that goes behind it.

The difference between a five-star chai and a five-rupee chai was almost insignificant compared to the experience of observing two extreme lifestyles in this baffling city of Mumbai.

Get Lost on Mohammad Ali Road

To complete the last leg of Task 2, we hopped on a train from Dadar Central to Masjid, which brought us near South Mumbai’s famous Mohammad Ali Road.

Known for its famous eateries, Mohammad Ali Road was buzzing with activity as iftaar time (during Ramzan) approached .

Restaurants were preparing their iftaar menu, people were busy buying clothes and gifts for Eid, children were already stocking up their firecrackers for Diwali, porters manning huge wheelbarrows full of cargo were yelling at people to get out of the way, cars were doing the same with their horns—there was just so much going on!

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One of the porters who was balancing two huge sacks on his head, accidentally dropped one of them on the ground. A passer-by was quick to comment, "Samaan gira, aadmi nahi gira! Bohot na-insaafi hai!"

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As we made our way down the noisy street, we noticed a young boy, no older than 14, sitting outside a hair stylist saloon. When asked his name, the boy was reluctant to provide it to us. After finally coaxing out “Ali Shaikh” from the boy and the fact that he worked as a hair stylist, we asked him his age. The boy gave us an apprehensive look and said, “20.” At this point, some of his older colleagues from the saloon had gathered around. We then asked him his monthly income. Before the boy could say anything, one of his colleagues said, “Rs. 4000.” We thanked them and walked away, wondering whether the boy actually earned that much and how long would it be before he turns 20.

Even though Mohammad Ali Road is a predominantly Muslim area, we did see a few non-Muslims wandering around. Some non-Muslims even work here, like Shambhu Yadav, who runs a nuts stall.

Yadav, 18, hails from Jaunpur in Uttar Pradesh and stays in Jogeshwari. He travels the 30kms to Mohammad Ali Road every day to sell nuts, and speaks Hindi and English.

We then noticed a young couple buying chappals at a small vendor. We approached the woman and introduced ourselves. When we asked her name, the woman remained silent and just stared at us blankly. Her husband then butted in and gave us his name—Amin Kohari.

Mr. Kohari said that he was an electrical contractor and was 23 years of age. Further questioning revealed that the Koharis hailed from Badlapur near Mumbai and come to Mohammad Ali Road often to do their shopping.

Throughout this time, Mrs. Kohari was as silent as a grave. But her expression was one of apprehension and diffidence. She was longing to have her say.

We walked away from Mohammad Ali Road with an astounded look on our face, silently admiring the medleys of people in Mumbai. 

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A Religious Melting Pot

The second assignment given to us was to cover three different places of worship in Bombay.

Our first stop of the day was St. Michael’s church, also known as Mahim Church.

St. Michael's Church, Mahim (click to enlarge)

The church, located on Mahim Causeway, is one of the oldest Catholic churches in India. Originally built in 1534, the church was razed down and rebuilt a number of times under the rules of the Portuguese and the British. The present structure was built in 1973.

We were greeted at the entrance by the following message:

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The church has a calming presence once you enter the hall. Since we went on a Friday, there weren’t many people inside. We were informed that the church follows weekly Novena services on Wednesdays. Devotees believe that attending mass for nine consecutive Wednesdays will grant their wishes.

Inside the church (click to enlarge)

St. Michael’s parish prays to Our Lady of Perpetual Help and has a picture of the original painting featuring the Virgin Mary holding a young Christ in her arms.

Explanation of the picture (click to enlarge)

The picture belongs to the 15th century and is characterized by the symbols of the passion and the austere features of Virgin Mary and the Child. Around the crowned head of Mary are the words "Mother of God". 

On both sides are the two archangels Michael and Gabriel with their respective names inscribed above their head and holding the instruments of the Passion— St. Michael holding the spear and the sponge; and St.Gabriel, the Cross. 

At the sight of the Cross, the Child Jesus is stuck by fear. His feet strike each other and knock off a sandal from this foot. The features of the Virgin Mary convey a message of hope and an assurance of help to all those who, in identical circumstances, will appeal to her for help.

The church, on Friday, was presided over by Father Joel Mascarenhas, a Jesuit of St. Xavier’s church. Father Joel was deputizing for the resident Father who was away for the day.

Father Joel said that he has done a B.A. in Psychology from Xavier’s and has also done an M.S. in Pastoral Counselling from the United States.

Although his family is originally from Goa, Father Joel was born and brought up in Bombay. He preaches at the church at St. Xavier’s College.

From the soothing interiors of St. Michael’s church, we walked a few paces down Mahim Causeway to the crowded Maqdoom Shah Baba Dargah. 

The Maqdoom Shah Baba Dargah from a distance (click to enlarge)

Being Jum’at-ul-Vida, or the last Friday of the holy month of Ramadan, the dargah was bustling with activity. Devotees were coming in to offer their afternoon namaz in flocks.

The entrance to the dargah (click to enlarge)

As we had arrived just ten minutes before the stipulated time for namaz, many devotees refused to speak to us. 

A young man present near the dargah finally agreed to have a quick word. His name was Mohammad Hussein and he was 23 years old. He works as a help at a small florist right outside the dargah and earns around Rs. 200 per day.

Some of the visitors of the dargah weren’t even Muslims. 

Sushmita Panda, an 18-year-old Brahmin from Orissa, is a regular visitor of the dargah. Panda said that she is a resident of Wadala and studies at the SIWS College of Science and Commerce. She often comes to the dargah to seek blessings.

After grabbing a quick lunch (most of the places were shut due to namaz) nearby, we caught a bus to Dadar to take us to the Siddhivinayak temple.

The Siddhivinayak temple was originally built as a tiny place of worship for Lord Ganesha in the early 19th century, but has evolved into the magnificent structure that stands today.

Siddhivinayak Temple (click to enlarge)

It is one of the richest and most popular temples of Mumbai. Many a politician and filmstar have come here to seek blessings from Lord Ganesha, and continue to do so.

However, we were amazed by the commercialization of the area in and around the temple.

Small shops have been set up inside the main gate, that sell garlands and sweets to offer as prasad to the Lord. These shops also offer to guard the devotees’ footwear, although the temple has its own foot locker area. The shops have hired helps who are aggressive in their approach to devotees and almost grab you into their respective shops if you’re not careful.

Inside the temple, there are policemen and security guards who monitor the line of devotees into the small mandap and are vocal with their displeasure if you take too long to complete your prayer and rituals.

This was the state at the temple on a normal day. We could only imagine the atmosphere once the festival of Ganesha begins shortly.

Hindu Colony, Dadar — A Visual Treat

Excerpt—After a tiring, but remarkable experience at Kamathipura, we headed towards Dadar’s Hindu Colony for the second leg of our task.

Located a few hundred metres from Dadar Railway Station, the Hindu Colony was a stark contrast from what we saw at Kamathipura.

Main road of Hindu Colony (click to enlarge)

A beautiful, serene and peaceful neighbourhood filled with old buildings and huge trees, the Hindu Colony is a treat to the eyes!  It consists of six parallel lanes joined on either side by a perpendicular road—resembling a railway track.

The lanes were much wider than the ones at Kamathipura and devoid of all the squalor and activity. Walking around, we felt like a bird that has just escaped its cage.

One of the lanes (click to enlarge)

We noticed that the people here seemed so peaceful and content with their lives. Everyone was going about their business at a leisurely pace and seemed to have a natural smile on their face.

One such lady, Sarika Suratkar, was walking her five-year-old son home from school. The 33-year-old was a housewife who lived in the first lane of the Hindu Colony and her family have been living here for years.

Another lady, Ratna Mali, was selling bananas on the street. Belonging to the Mali caste, the 40-year-old earns around Rs. 1000 per month selling bananas. She also doubles up as a road sweeper to make ends meet. She speaks Marathi and Hindi.

Mrs. Ratna Mali (click to enlarge)

Mahendra Ram Gaikwad, a resident of the nearby Parsi Colony, has one of the most unusual, yet enjoyable, jobs there is. He is a dog-walker. The 21-year-old from Solapur was refusing to divulge his income, but said that he does have a lot of customers in the area.

Mr. Mahendra Ram Gaikwad (click to enlarge)

Despite their different backgrounds, the unifying factor among the three people mentioned above was that they seemed happy and satisfied with their lives—something which was missing in Kamathipura.

This goes to show the extremes in the lives and habitats of the people of Mumbai. It also goes to show the value of a single paisa and a single square-foot of land in this city.

Both Kamathipura and the Hindu Colony have been there for decades and have remained virtually unchanged. Rest assured, they will continue to do so for years to come.

Kamathipura — Asia's Reddest Light

Our first ever field trip as student reporters was to Kamathipura—(in)famous for being Asia’s largest red-light district, and one of the world’s largest too. 

Our task was to find a certain Ramabai Chawl. 

Kamathipura is an amalgamation of 16 narrow lanes sandwiched between Grant Road and Byculla-Mazgaon district of Mumbai, and the first thing that hits you when you enter it is claustrophobia.

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The lanes are so cramped with illegal encroachments, vehicles, garbage and people that we couldn’t help but get the feeling that we’re in a dirty, dingy maze with no way out. So we were quite amazed to actually see Ganpati pandals being constructed in the middle of the lanes and multi-axle buses making their way through.

One of the lanes (click to enlarge)

The lanes are bordered by two-three-storeyed houses and buildings—most of which were in a dilapidated condition, but still bustling with activity. Some, or probably many, of these buildings were brothels. The prostitutes could be seeing loitering around on the verandas and on the streets, looking to entice their customers.

One of the bigger chawls (click to enlarge)

As we made our way deeper into the maze looking for a seemingly inexistent Ramabai Chawl, we were amazed by the amount of activity transpiring in front of our eyes.

Small tapris were preparing their iftar menu; hawkers were hawking everything—from condoms to combs; small toddlers were defecating in the middle of the streets, while their elder siblings were harassing the stray dogs; some people had placed themselves down in a corner of the street to gamble, while a lottery waala walked around offering them another means to earn a quick buck.

The activity transpiring in closed doors goes without saying.

As we scoured the lanes one-by-one looking for the chawl (we did not have a lane number), we came to realize the might of the maze engulfing us.

No two people had the same opinion about the whereabouts of the said chawl. Some people tried to flaunt their proficiency in the English language, while others babbled away in Bambaiya Hindi.

There was even a disparity among the residents regarding the number of lanes in the area. The range given to us was from 13-16. Without a lane number, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

A witty shopkeeper enlightened us with the fact that the area was also called Hairan Galli-Pareshan Mohulla.

After giving up all hopes of finding dear Ramabai, we made our way into Arab Galli—a predominantly Muslim area on the outskirts of Kamathipura. The galli was even narrower than the lanes of Kamathipura, but the activity was the same.

Arab Galli (click to enlarge)

As we walked down the galli, we saw an elderly man running a laundry who was feeding his two multi-coloured birds.

Basha Sattara, 51, resident of the nearby Bapty Road, is originally from Bangalore but was born and brought up in Bombay. He has been running his laundry which backs up into his home for the last 30 years.

Mr. Sattara (click to enlarge)

Mr. Sattara receives about 50-60 clothes per day and earns around Rs. 15,000 per month. He also has a helper who aids him in running the laundry.

Mr. Sattara, a Sunni Muslim, told us that in spite of being located in Arab Galli, he did have a few non-Muslim customers too.

Right across Mr. Sattara’s laundry is the Fauziya Maternity and Nursing Home.

Dr. Faraz Mohammed Ijaz Aftar, a young Resident Medical Officer (RMO), practices here in the general ward. His expert opinion is open for all and he deals with a variety of cases and diseases—malaria and typhoid being the protagonists.

The 23-year-old Sunni Muslim hails from the Buldhana district of Maharashtra’s Amravati region resides near Noor Hospital and earns Rs. 10,000-a-month. He speaks English, Hindi and Urdu.

A few paces down the road, Mohammed Nasser works as a cook at the Qureshi Catering House. While he prepares the iftar meal, he tells us that he originates from Delhi and currently resides at Daud Baug on the nearby Sukhlaji Street.

The 30-year-old’s wages vary from anything between Rs. 3000-5000 per month depending on his performance. He speaks Hindi and Urdu.

Such is the contrast in the lives of people residing in and around the Kamathipura area of Mumbai. It is a melting pot of vocation, religion, caste, language, etc…but it is a smooth-running machine.

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Most of the residents have been living here for years and years, they belong to different communities and backgrounds, but they live in harmony with each other. They might hurl expletives and something more at each other from time-to-time, but you may be rest assured that they’ve got each other’s back.