Janmashtmi
The Janmashtmi festival is a big one in Mumbai. The shopping season starts from Raksha Bandhan. By shopping, I do not mean a mall kind of shopping but small shops which cater to Puja stuff needed for the festival. The music is in the air. Govindas or people who break the Dahi Handis consist of young children in their late teens or early twenties living in one Chawl. They hire a truck for the day and go to various places to break Dahi handis. This is a very Mumbai phenomena. The Govindas will wear same coloured t-shirts with the name of their Chawl/ colony/ compound written on it. The handis are now sponsored by political parties. There is a stage and DJ music along with live performances.Its a good opportunity to promote films, so the film actors have started visiting these Dahi handis. So there is political muscle, Filmy tussle and live act promotions. It mixes the Lavani with the Govinda music. The politico message with what's wrong with Mumbai. Each one ends their speech with we will not let any wrong happen to our Mumbai. The crowd bursts into a loud applause. This time one political party was talking about getting 400 swords from Punjab to protect Mumbai. With all these antics and dramatics, the main focus of the crowd and people is the actual Govindas. The people rush with their children to see them form 'thar'/ pyramids and climb up break the handi. The film stars are not the crowd pullers. Earlier the Handi was hung on a thick rope between two chawls or low level four storied residential buildings in Mumbai. Now at some places the political parties sponsor the Dahi handi where they hang the handi on a crane and have the event in an open ground. This is not how Mumbai celebrated Dahi Handi. It was in the small bylanes of Mumbai where the heart of Mumbai lives. Sometimes I sound so Mumbai centric to myself. Its like if 'Mumbai' was a guy, I would have been madly in love with him.
Talking about the bylanes where the heart of Mumbai beats, I took one such lane last week on the day of Janmashtmi. It lead to the railway station. I walked down the half broken steps of a bridge and reached this lane. As soon as I climbed down the first few steps, the buzz of Dadar bridge died down. I could hear birds and smell the train. I could hardly see any people in this lane. I had never climbed down these steps nor had ever walked in this lane. I knew roughly it would lead me closer to my destination. There were small structures of the British era which housed some railway offices. There was Rangoli outside each of these offices. One could see it was on the occasion of Janmashtmi. Being government offices, may be they had closed early or may be these were the offices with sleepy employees. The sun was about to set or the clouds had covered this lane. The birds were chirping more like a cacophony. a disabled man on his blue iron wheel chair was shaving. I could not see any mirror nearby. This was one of those rare Mumbai lanes where there was no food being sold and no cab drivers parked by the kerb. I had left the hustle bustle and I was a few minutes before merging back in the crowds. The minutes seem to stretch. Very few boys walking and most of them alone. Young unemployed youth is what I thought. But they usually move in pairs or groups. Not much chatter on this street and not a single shop. The railway tracks were covered by a wall. I spotted a man from a hole in the wall. Was he selling tea? I did not wait to look. The railway bridge opposite had people all moving in a mad rush to reach somewhere. I did not want to increase my pace, lest I appeared nervous. I did not want to be hanging around there. It was an extremely quiet verging on eerie. My heart went out to the girl who went to Shakti Mills. Did she feel the eeriness of the place? I was cold. I just wanted to merge with the crowds as I had not seen a single woman in this lane. No dance bars, no weird houses, no parked trucks, no crime scenes but just no women. I rushed up the steps of the railway bridge and turned left. Realised I was not an authorised ticket holder to use this bridge. I prayed hard not to be caught by the ticket collector and my inner demons.
Talking about the bylanes where the heart of Mumbai beats, I took one such lane last week on the day of Janmashtmi. It lead to the railway station. I walked down the half broken steps of a bridge and reached this lane. As soon as I climbed down the first few steps, the buzz of Dadar bridge died down. I could hear birds and smell the train. I could hardly see any people in this lane. I had never climbed down these steps nor had ever walked in this lane. I knew roughly it would lead me closer to my destination. There were small structures of the British era which housed some railway offices. There was Rangoli outside each of these offices. One could see it was on the occasion of Janmashtmi. Being government offices, may be they had closed early or may be these were the offices with sleepy employees. The sun was about to set or the clouds had covered this lane. The birds were chirping more like a cacophony. a disabled man on his blue iron wheel chair was shaving. I could not see any mirror nearby. This was one of those rare Mumbai lanes where there was no food being sold and no cab drivers parked by the kerb. I had left the hustle bustle and I was a few minutes before merging back in the crowds. The minutes seem to stretch. Very few boys walking and most of them alone. Young unemployed youth is what I thought. But they usually move in pairs or groups. Not much chatter on this street and not a single shop. The railway tracks were covered by a wall. I spotted a man from a hole in the wall. Was he selling tea? I did not wait to look. The railway bridge opposite had people all moving in a mad rush to reach somewhere. I did not want to increase my pace, lest I appeared nervous. I did not want to be hanging around there. It was an extremely quiet verging on eerie. My heart went out to the girl who went to Shakti Mills. Did she feel the eeriness of the place? I was cold. I just wanted to merge with the crowds as I had not seen a single woman in this lane. No dance bars, no weird houses, no parked trucks, no crime scenes but just no women. I rushed up the steps of the railway bridge and turned left. Realised I was not an authorised ticket holder to use this bridge. I prayed hard not to be caught by the ticket collector and my inner demons.
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