There’s a lump in my throat whenever I think of Bombay...... ooops! Mumbai. What a lark of a city was Mumbai. big and beautiful -- not brash and bumptious, as she is now. Walk along the cobbled arcades on either side of Hornby Road, from Flora Fountain, Victoria Terminus, and one felt a certain protective warmth, a mother clasp. Or it may be the lazy joy of trundling along from Opera House to Metro Cinema, with the Girgaum shop-fronts grazing past you, and then onwards, between Cross and Azad Maidans, back to Flora Fountain.
Of course there were people, crowds of them. And then there were those hurrying to catch a fast suburban train from Churchgate. Today, there is an avalanche of humanity, the hell let loose which is so breathtakingly portrayed in Charles Correa’s film, ’City on the Water’.
Mumbai is going the Manhattan way. The city always had its high-rise buildings. a goodly number. But not too many. Today there is a mushrooming of high-rise towers. Phallic symbols of a city gone to seed. The city stinks as voluptuously as ever. You will know what I mean when you whizz past by Mahim Creek on the Virar train.
On a more positive side I remember the epicurean delights of Bombay. Colaba for the best biryani, Grant Road for the best dhansak, Churchgate for the best gujarati thali, Fort market for the best udipi meal, Crawford market for the best falooda.
I just loved the Bombay I knew many years ago. ’ Jaane Kahaan gaye woh din...’’