Bom Bahai Dairies 9- Bhaijaan

Nazir would go to the annual Urs at the Mahim Dargah almost every day.  He was a smart young man in his early thirties with a clean-shaven look and would usually wear jeans and T-shirts. He was fascinated with the Mahim Urs festival since the time he was a kid. He had heard miraculous things about this place from his father who had said that this was the dargah of the renowned Makhdum Faikh Ali Mahimi who lived between 1272 to 1431. He was married to the sister of Sultan Ahmed Shah of Gujarat and was given the title of Qutb-e- Kokan.  Hazrat Mahimi was renowned all across the world for his unique interpretation of the Holy Quran and had written over a hundred books in Arabic. Each year, believers both Hindus and Muslims visit his shrine and there is a mela organized nearby on the beach. The annual ten day starts with a traditional procession from Mahim Police Station, believed to be the site of Mahimi’s residence. Two police officers from each of the eighty four city police stations take part in the procession and a representative of Mumbai police offer the first Chadar (a piece of ornate spread made of silk cloth or flowers) at the tomb.

One evening while returning from the dargah, he saw a little boy wandering aimlessly and going round and round the tomb. He had seen the boy hanging around in his previous two visits as well and he found it very strange. He walked up to the boy and asked… Who are you and what is it that you are doing here all alone? People who come here seeking blessings of Baba either tie a string in one corner of the dargah or place a chadar of flowers or cloth on top. The boy gave Nazir a lost and blank look as if he had not heard or understood anything. Nazir offered the boy water from a bottle he was carrying and the boy gulped it down in no time. He sure was thirsty. He next asked….What is your name and who are you here with? The boy did not answer any of the questions. Nazir took the boy aside and then tried to communicate with his fingers and facial movements as if playing dumb-charades. But nothing seemed to work on the boy. Nazir felt sorry of the boy and felt that it was his duty to reunite the kid with his family.  Maybe that is what his God was wanting him to do.

He walked the boy to the fair/ mela on the beach. It was his belief that in case the boy would have got lost in the crowd at the fair, surely his parents would have lodged a complaint with the police stationed there. The boy’s eyes lit up when he saw the beautifully illuminated stalls and the children enjoying the swings and the giant wheel. Nazir was himself quite afraid of the big wheels, so he allowed the boy to try his hand at the air gun stall with balloons and a ride on a mini train. At one stall, the boy even laughed aloud when he saw a man put a burning paan into his mouth. Later, on enquiry at the police booth at the fair, Nazir was disappointed to find out that there had been no lost and found cases in this year’s Urs celebrations. He wondered, how he would reunite the kid with his family.

Nazir, the good man, with his hand movements, asked the boy if he would like to eat something. The boy nodded his head saying yes. Nazir took him to the lane where he first offered the famous Baba Falooda but the boy showed no interest. A few steps ahead, there were heaps of biryani and pulao. Again, the boy nodded his head left to right saying no. Ok, you do not want rice but have halwa parantha. This is a very special dish and you will not get it anywhere else. The boy watched the man cooking the giant parantha in a huge frying pan and the shopkeeper tearing pieces of the fried paratha and adding heaps of what looked like sweet halwa made from reddish boondi and then selling it to people who had queued up to buy the delicacy. Again, a big no was the boy’s reply. A little further down, Nazir showed the boy some kebabs on skewers; once again, the answer was a complete no.  One of Nazir’s friends who was watching this agonizing walk down the food street suggested that it is quite possible the boy does not like non-vegetarian food.

Why don’t you try taking him to some vegetarian eatery? He may not be liking what you are offering.

Yes, maybe you are right, brother, so can you suggest some place I could take the boy?

For the best vada pav, you should go to Ashok Vada Pav near Kirti College, but it being Sunday the shop will be closed. You can take a cab from here and go straight to Prakash at Dadar where you can get really good snacks.

And, so they hopped into a kali-peeli (yellow and black) cab and off they went to Dadar. The taxi driver knew the place well and reached there without even opening his Google Maps.

The little boy's eyes lit up and he happily walked into the Prakash Shakahari Upahaar Kendra which was started in 1947 in South Mumbai by the Joglekar family and then after a couple of decades shifted to its present address near Shivaji Park. People throng here for authentic Maharashtrian food. Nazir asked the person serving to bring a couple of their most famous dishes. First came the two round balls of sabudana vadi, and then a plate of missal puri. Normally puri is eaten with bhaji (gravy) of potato and onion), but here what was served was very different. The bowl of lentil curry with namkeen and chopped onions on top was turned over and you had to eat the piping hot puris with the misal. The food was very tasty and filling. The boy gave a look of feeling good at having finally eaten some food of his liking.

After eating the boy washed his hands in the basin nearby and then tried to take out the handkerchief from his pocket in the shorts. Along with the handkerchief came out a small identity card. Nazir was now very happy to see on the I-card that the boy’s name was Vicky and he was a student of Montessori School at Vasai.  There was the phone number of the school. Nazir called the number but the phone on the receiver’s end kept ringing and no one picked it up. He realized that the school would be shut on Sundays and therefore there was no one was around. He then saw there was another handwritten number on the back of the card. Nazir called on that number and someone on the other end picked up on the first ring itself.

Hello… is this Vicky’s home number?

Yes, it is but Vicky is missing for the last three days…said a sobbing woman.

Are you his mother?

Yes, but why? Who are you?

I am Nazir and your son, Vicky, is here with me. I found him at the Mahim fair this evening.

Thank you so much Nazir. We had almost given up hope after having lost him at the fair. Where are you now?

I am at Dadar. Please come and take him home. Where shall I wait for you?

I will be coming by the next available train and get off at Dadar Station. There is a Mama Kane shop that Vicky knows well. We often go there for snacks after visiting Siddhi Vinayak temple. You wait for me outside the restaurant. Thank you so much, Nazir, you are a savior.

A happy Nazir said…Vicky, let us go to Mama Kane’s shop…your mother said you know the place. Take me there, will you. Your mother will come soon to take you home.

Vicky was now in his elements and he upped his pace. Nazir had to fight hard to keep in step with the little lad who seemed to know every turn and pot hole around the place and the way he walked through the heavily crowded streets was a masterclass in gliding through the crowded Mumbai streets.  After a while, he stopped at a small shop just outside the Dadar Station and pointed his finger in the direction of the eating place. Nazir was quite surprised that the boy showed an inclination to eat more despite having had a couple of heavy snacks at Prakash. The man had no control over the situation and just followed the little boy who was ushered to an empty table by a waiter. The boy confidently looked at the menu card and pointed to two items-missal pav and thallipeeth. The waiter said…Good choice.

The food here in the iconic and century old eatery, Mama Kane Swatchha Griha is a must go destination for a taste of Mumbai. Started by Narayan Vishnu Kane in 1910 as Dakshini Brahmananche Swatchha Upahar Griha, the son Shankar Kane made the place to well-known and ran it from 1935 to 1965. His nephews and the customers started calling Shankar as Mama and the eatery then adopted the name Mama Kane. The place is known for quality ingredients and hygiene and is frequented by film, stage and political personalities where they indulge in simple Maharashtrian delicacies.

By the time, Vicky and Nazir finished eating the two dishes, a woman with twin girls in their teens rushed to the table where the duo was seated. Vicky, too, stood up and started crying Aayi..Aayi. The two girls, possibly his elder sisters, also wrapped their arms around the mother and Vicky and started crying. After a while, the mother thanked Nazir profusely for taking care of Vicky and reaching out to them. As they were leaving for the station, Vicky turned back one last time to look at Nazir who was feeling happy at having been able to accomplish a good deed. Vicky freed his hands from his mother’s iron clasp and ran towards Nazir. The little boy wrapped his arms around his benefactor’s thighs, then turned his face up and said Khoop Aabhar Mama (thank you very much Uncle). Nazir lifted the boy up in his arms and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheeks and then put him down. Vicky now went back to his mother and sisters and walked out of the place. Nazir paid the bill and gave the person serving them a substantial tip and then he too walked away to take a train to his home in Kurla.

Vicky & SS

Of Friends Old and New

Old Wine 

To go or not to go… three times I asked the office help desk for the Mumbai-Delhi-Mumbai fares.  About twenty days ago, the fare was about eleven thousand, but with a huge assignment in hand, the mind said… forget it, say no. A week later, checked again, the fares had soared to thirteen thousand. The heart silently said, go man. Then, hell broke loose. SixE turned not so SexY… with thousands of flights getting cancelled, I decided to give the reunion a miss. Wrote to my mates, who felt bad but understood and accepted and the final list of thirteen attendees was drawn out minus me. Then some sort of normalcy returned and a day before the get-together, just couldn’t resist myself and booked the tickets. The heart overruled the mind and the pocket. With five of the original set of friends having bid a final hurrah, a voice within said… just go kyonki zindagi na milegi dobara. Some things in life are simply priceless and you would not miss them for anything. For there are friends and then there are those who are more than a lifetime-wale friends. 

The joy on the faces when they saw the unexpected fourteenth horseman arrive was something that made the long journey worth every penny spent. Warm hugs, tight hugs and big smiles happened all around and the party got going full speed ahoy. Sometimes people at our homes wonder why this annual reunion is so important… difficult to say why this tradition has been going on for almost 21 years except a couple of years in between that were lost due to the pandemic. Sometimes the attendance is good and friends from across the seas also fly down and at times only a handful come together. But the annual meet of Section 10-C SCS in Nov or Dec is like any festival in India where dates depend upon stars and constellations and here it is usually arrival of a migratory bird from down under. 

If I were to think of some logical reasons why the annual get-together of this Band of Brothers, as the group of men in their early sixties call themselves, happens year after year, it would not be easy but I have tried to put together a few.

a.   Having been together for over fifty years, this one bond of friendship seems to be oldest in their lives, for even the parents of most of these men are no longer there. This is more like brotherhood that binds them together. 

b.  They know each other to the core and share the darkest of secrets knowing fully well that things said here will remain within the group. That’s the Code of Brothers and has never been hacked. 

c. While some have gone on to become big industrialists and professionals, here those designations and individual wealth do not matter. When they meet and start talking, everything melts away just like yesterday. 

d.  There is no sense of competition and jealousy that you might find in the groups that are formed in professional institutes and later on in working life. By then innocence is lost and scrape a layer, the comparisons of who did what and how much money the other makes comes out. 

e. There is zero element of politics and religion discussed and shared in the group, the sure shot reasons that create heartburns and schisms and often exist in most groups. 

f.    Everyone knows how many times the other has been caned by the Irish Brothers and what other embarrassment one may have encountered in those early days, the thrashing by the Hindi teacher… everything spills out and so do peals of laughter. In the group, it was ok to be stupid then and it is ok to stay stupid even now. 

g.  Boys talk of having seen something about the gorgeous looking elocution teacher, the sneak-peek of the biology teacher while getting the notebooks corrected and close encounters with the beauties in the girls’ school across the barbed wire and green fencing, all come out of the closet and they behave as if they are still in their teens. Some, of course, can be ruled out as folk tales but they still make you laugh as adolescents and you never question their authenticity. 

The few hours of togetherness in one year are something we all look forward to. Like in Dil Chahta Hai, Saif Ali Khan says, hum cake ke liye kahin bhi jaa sakte hain (we can go anywhere to eat cake), similarly, the Band of Brothers say, hum iss ek din ke liye, kuchh bhi kar sakte hain (for this one day of meeting in a year, we can go to any length). These friends make life, a lot more fun. Finally, let me quote the tennis ace, Maria Sharapova, who once said, ““It's easy to impress me. I don't need a fancy party to be happy. Just good friends, good food, and good laughs. I'm happy. I'm satisfied. I'm content.” Seeing this perfect quote from her, the boys are willing to make one exception and induct the beautiful Maria into their group. 

Barfi

Lately, D and I have found a new friend who we long to meet every evening while at our walks. We met him a couple of months ago and he seemed pretty uninterested and bored. He would be in his four-wheeler and would hardly look at us. Slowly he started noticing the two oldies walking together, day after day, while he had his own companion who would not leave his side. A few more months passed and now he would sit up and give us a smile once in a while. Another month passed and he realised that these are good people, people who he can be friends with. And today the situation is that on days when we are unable to go for the evening walks, we miss meeting our friend more than our walks. On days when I am away and only D gets to meet this friend, the first thing I want to know while connecting with her is, …did you meet him…what happened? 

Meet our latest best friend Gabbu. He is thirteen months old and still in his diapers but he is truly…nappy mein bhi happy. He never cries and is always smiling. He still moves around in his pram but is someone we long to meet every day. Maybe he too feels the same, so we think, but apart from a little ..mee hee…aa aa… he is still to utter words. Gabbu may not be able to talk as of now but he shows some extraordinary behavioral traits. 

Even when he is some distance away with his pram facing the other way, if I clap aloud even once, he turns back instantly and knows his friend has arrived. He will start clapping himself with his tiny hands till I reach close to him when he will throw up his little hands, saying, take me in your arms Big Brother. He is definitely fond of me for I run with him, make him sit atop cars while he bangs his palms on the roofs, he is happy to see his reflection on the window panes of cars parked in the colony and take him anywhere he points his hands to. D is also very fond of him but if I am around, he insists on coming to me but then he has understood that this other walking mate of mine is not happy at what he is doing. He then goes to her arms initially for no more than sixty seconds and then having paid his toll tax, puts up his hands towards me…now take me Buddy. Smart Boy, indeed. 

On those days when I am not around, the little master is a different person. Earlier he would just lie down in his pram and keep smiling at D, mocking at her, saying… no, no, no…I am not coming to you. But nowadays he has realised, something is better than just sitting in the pram all through the evening and this lady is able to do a lot of what my other friend did. He now quickly goes to her arms and then tries to make her do all that I do to him; all his instructions are with his hands and eyes. On days when we are out walking and he is nowhere to be seen, other walkers who see us playing with him daily, ask us… where is he? We just smile and say, we are also looking for him. We, too, look a bit lost with every passing round of the walking circuit and hope, he will be there in the next. Sometimes he comes into view and we feel overjoyed and at times, he doesn’t, and we return home disappointed. We think of doing an extra round on days, hoping we might see him at least once. 

One day, Gabbu’s father had him in his arms and on seeing me, he jumped straight into my arms as if telling his dad, this guy is more fun than you. Strangely, however, one evening, Gabbu was in his mother’s arms and when we passed by, he acted as if he did not know us at all. I tried to make faces and did some antics, something like Ranbir Kapoor in Barfi, but this young friend of ours saw me and showed no signs of recognition… he looked at his mom and possibly gave her a look to say… who is this funny man, I don’t know him, do you? Why is he acting loony, Mom? That, I suppose is the connect of the umbilical cord every child has and proved to us that the magic of a mother’s touch is stronger than any relationship. Even little Gabbu knows it well at this infant stage. 

Soon Gabbu will grow up and have friends of his own age, with whom he can play, talk and do innumerable things. Will he be the Little Dennis or Calvin? Who knows, but surely, he will grow up and long after we have gone, have a Band of Brothers of his own. We wish him and his family well. See you in the evening Buddy.