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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