Footloose in the City of Bombay: A Day Devoted to History, Literature, Art, Food and ‘Flaneuring’
Saturday, February 12, 2022
Bombay
Finally, after what seems like absolute ages, the city of Bombay has re-opened. For me, the biggest and most welcome change is that the main Museum of the city, once known as the Prince of Wales Museum (now known as the Shivaji Museum) has opened its doors to visitors—I know of no better sign of recovery than this! And so, my friend Maria and I decided to spend the day footloose in the city re-discovering some of the bits of it we most love. I was beyond excited. It was as if I were visiting a foreign land! Furthermore, although I have usually traveled into the city by train (the commuter trains are also up and running—hurrah!), Maria was able to offer the luxury of her car and driver! This made the trip even more exciting!
As planned, I joined Maria at the corner of my lane in Bandra at 9.15 (after breakfast and a shower) and was picked up by her—she lives just one lane away from me. We had a very easy ride. En route, we spoke on the phone to our friend Nafisa who lives in the city (in Byculla) and decided to join us at our first stop, for the morning only. She was busy in the afternoon. Accordingly, she joined us at the entrance of Crawford Market which was our first port of call.
Cruising Around Crawford Market:
I need to say that Crawford Market carries nostalgic memories for both Maria and myself. When we were children, it was the one place to which all Catholics made a bee-line in preparation for Christmas. Mums bought all manner of cake ingredients as well as fabric, shoes and other clothing items we might need for celebrating the biggest holiday on our calendar. The shops were always crowded, business was always brisk. When all was said and done, we would make our way to an Irani restaurant called Badshah which had the monopoly over a very fancy drink, justifiably called a Royal Falooda. All of us remember this treat as we would have it no more than twice a year.
Nafisa was waiting for us when we arrived and we headed straight into the Market. Crawford Market was built in the Victorian Age using the same floor plan and design that the British used to build a vast number of covered markets all over their own nation and in their colonies. London has some splendid examples—Covent Garden, Spitalfields, to name two. Leeds has a whole bunch of them and I was amazed at how beautifully they are maintained. In Oxford, of course, you have the beautiful Covered Market in which I have done all sorts of shopping over the years. In Karachi, there is Empress Market—of the same vintage and named, of course, after Queen Victoria, who titled herself “Empress of India’.
Crawford Market was designed by William Emerson and completed in 1869 through funds donated by a Parsi worthy named Cowasji Jehangir—he was later knighted and became known as “Sir CJ” (the famous CJ Hall opposite the Museum was named after him). The Market was named after Arthur Crawford, the city’s first Municipal Commissioner. In 1889, it was the first building in Bombay to be fitted with electric lights—and these massive glass-fronted lanterns still hang from the rafters today and are a lovely visual feature of the space. The market is designed around a central hub from which corridors fan out like the spokes of a wheel. There are shops lining both sides of each spoke. Vendors arrange their merchandise beautifully, in a very orderly fashion, so that their goods are a real feast for the eyes. There are separate sections for dry goods (pantry items like rice, flour, baking supplies), fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, even a separate section for pets—you can buy birds, rabbits, etc. As a child, I had once bought a tortoise from this same place! We had called it Shelley!
Maria had a list of items to buy in bulk—in the way we shop in the US at BJs or Costco or Sam’s Club! I had only three items on my list: paper muffin cups (I ended buying ones that were a tad too small—I should have trusted my instinct), baking parchment paper and an ice-cream scoop (to form cookies on a cookie sheet). However, by the time I was done, I had an icing turntable, said muffin cups, two different sizes of ice-cream scoops, large sized baking powder tins, baking soda, parchment paper (2 rolls), custard powder, a number of paper doilies, a number of paper plates and a large bag of shelled walnuts. All our buys were placed in a large basket and carried out by a porter to our waiting car.
Before we left, we stopped to admire the handsome stone fountain that was designed by John Lockwood Kipling, father of novelist Rudyard Kipling, who made his home just across the street. He was the first Principal of the Sir JJ School of Arts and he persuaded the Parsi industrialist-philanthropist, Sir Jamshedji Jeeheebhoy (JJ for short) to finance the water fountain that allowed everyone access to clean, running, drinking water. The fountain still stands but it is dry now, of course. Inside, the iron fret work is still in very good condition, but the place needs a lick of paint. It is well lit and I did not see any pigeons—this is quite remarkable considering that during the pandemic, business activity might have been severely curtailed. After we had admired the architecture of this magnificent building that attracts a large number of international visitors each year, we made our way outside to admire the red-tiled roof and Cinderella castle-like turret which have been recently refurbished and sports, as it has always done, a wonderful clock face. At a time when most people could not afford a wristwatch, it was towers like these with their clocks that informed people of the time of day. There are Victorian clock towers such as these all over the British colonial world.
As soon as our purchasing was completed and our buys stowed in the car’s booth, we crossed the street to get to our next port of call.
Rudyard Kipling’s Birthplace and Home:
Although a lot of people have read Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book (or have seen the movie) and can recite the poem “If”, few know that one of the most famous of Victorian novelists was born in Bombay and lived in the city till the age of 12. His father, John Lockwood Kipling, was instrumental in setting up the first school of Fine Arts in Bombay by persuading the same Sir JJ to donate funds for its establishment. He also became its first Principal and stayed in the saddle for at least twenty years. The home he designed and built for himself in the vast grounds of the school—that came to be known as the Sir JJ School of Arts and still remains the premier Art Institute in the city—still stands and is a fine relic of a time when the most marvelous materials such as mosaic tile and teak wood were used in the construction of homes.
We found our way to the three-storey mansion that is vast and surrounded by corridors that probably housed the servant’s quarters. The home has been uninhabited for decades but is in a very good state as there is regular upkeep to maintain it. The grounds outside are a different story. They are completely neglected—it was like walking in a forest in autumn. Mature trees surround the property that keep it beautifully shaded and very cool…but because the landscaping maintenance is non-existent, the entire place wears the sad look of neglect.
We took in the lovely porch which is crowned by a bronze bust of Rudyard Kipling and a plaque announcing the fact that he was born in this home. He lived in it until the age of 12 when, in accordance with tradition, he was sent off to England for an education, entered boarding school, then university and returned to Bombay as an adult to begin his writing career. Reportedly, he wrote The Jungle Book in this house.
We posed for pictures on the porch and then circumnavigated the property to take in the architectural and decorative details such as the original mosaic floors, the teak wood cladding, beams and carved screens—all of which are such expensive, labor-intensive features as to be quite obsolete these days. It is only when you walk all around the house that you realize how large it is. Sadly, visitors are not allowed inside the house—which is empty, in any case. I did notice the beautiful iron fountain in the front of the house just beyond the beautiful overhanging porch—a regular feature of colonial homes as it allowed horse-carriages to drive up to the very door of these grand houses and remain sheltered from the elements. I have to say that my friends were very impressed indeed by this stunning home. I, on the other hand, had visited this site exactly two years ago and was much taken with it during that visit.
Perusing the Sir JJ School of Arts:
We then crossed the street and were within the precincts of the Sir JJ School of Arts in just a couple of minutes. You will know at once that you are in a profoundly artistic environment by the number of sculptures that punctuate the flower beds in the gardens along the walkway leading to the main entrance of the school. There are large and small sculptures in wood, metal, stone and they could well make an hour pass easily, if one stopped to scrutinize them. I presume they are the works created by the school’s students, over the years.
We made our way to the main door and I was able to introduce my friends to the main lobby. The building is another one of the beautiful Victorian-Gothic examples that dot the landscape of South Bombay. This one is in a dark grey stone with off-white granite accents. It is entirely clad on the façade with dark grey stone. In the lobby, there are famous paintings that hang way too high, close to the very tall ceiling. How any students can appreciate the finer points of these works is beyond me! If they are intended to serve as an inspiration to the students, they are much too far beyond their field of vision to do so. I recognized The Fighting Temeraire by J.W.M. Turner (which had been voted by the public as Britain’s best-loved and most easily recognized painting). There are two self-portraits by Rembrandt—one of the painter in his younger days, another when he was far older. Again, these lose their significance from being so far out of the reach of the students. Other Renaissance paintings that I could not recognize were also there as well as an oil portrait of a Parsi baron whom, I am presuming, is Sir JJ. We spent a few more minutes commenting on these paintings and left.
Just across the main entrance is a grand and very imposing sculpture of a Scottish colonial worthy—Donald McKay—11th Earl of Reay or Lord Reay (after whom the road and the railway station Reay Road have been named). He is clad in a voluminous robe that is heavily embellished with embroidered decoration. Bearded and wearing a lacy cravat, he sits in contemplation perhaps of the wonderful Harbor Line railway and roadway he designed and funded at the end of the 19th century to connect the cotton-producing farms and fields of the hinterland of Maharashtra with the docks through which they could be shipped off to Britain during the Industrial Revolution—and, in doing so, bringing abject impoverishment to India. Funnily enough, he has not been relegated to the sculpture graveyard at the Victoria Gardens (now called the Jijamata Udhyan)—probably because he is a private possession of the school rather than of the city.
A few steps away from the sculpture, that is girded with iron chains to prevent visitors from getting too close, are the classrooms where classes were, in fact, in progress. We were permitted to wander through the first one that was the Print Gallery—we could see students working with their instructor. What is fascinating about this classroom is that it is lined with Victorian printing presses that were actually once used probably to print portraits, landscapes, etchings, maybe even newspapers. They are in complete disuse now, of course, and look rather forlorn. What tales they could tell!
With the first part of our wanderings over, Nafisa said goodbye to Maria and me. She had other engagements for the rest of the afternoon. We, on the other hand, were headed for a bit of retail therapy!
Buying Stationery at Chimanlal’s:
Maria and I piled back into her car and instructed our driver, Shekar, to take us towards Sterling Cinema from where we would find our way to our next point of interest: the stationery store called Chimanlal’s that has been in business for several decades.
In fact, I have been a dedicated Chimanlal’s fan for several decades myself. I first discovered the store during my undergraduate college days in the early 1970s and I can’t even remember who first introduced me to the place. Suffice it to say that, for the last forty years at least, I have bought my stocks of greeting cards, gift wrap, gift bags, gift tags, gift envelopes, etc. from this place and carried them off to the US. I even have some of their earliest prints of a set of Indian musicians (about six in number) which I had always intended to frame but never got down to it! Anyway, Maria was very pleased that I took her there and, thanks to me, she too bought a bunch of the lovely handmade paper products in which the store specializes. Some of their designs have really stood the test of time and have been around forever—others are of more recent vintage. We left with a big bundle each—I now have enough such products to last me for the next couple of years at least.
By this stage (12.30 pm), we were both starting to feel peckish and decided to proceed for lunch. In deciding where we would eat, I had consulted my cookbook Dishoom which gives ideas for gourmet walking tours in Bombay. In the Fort area, there were three options: Mahesh and Trishna (both of which do South Indian coastal seafood) or Jimmy Boy which does traditional Parsi cuisine. The third option seemed like a no-brainer as I love Parsi food and very rarely get a chance to eat it—so Jimmy Boy it was. I had a reservation for 1.00 pm and there I was with Maria as our car drove around the splendid Horniman Circle whose lovely central garden I love. I am particularly fond of the huge and very ornate wrought-iron gates that are typical of the British Victorian parks and garden gates to be found all over the British Isles and its colonies. During one of my longer stays in London, I had lived in the East End, in Bethnal Green, and had Victoria Park about a ten minute walk from the old Victorian house on Globe Road that I had rented for the summer. The gates of this park are identical to the ones at Victoria Park and I am always taken sharply back to my time spent there in the East End of London.
Lunch at Jimmy Boy:
Among the many items on the menu at Jimmy Boy is the Lagan Nu Bhonu (which means The Wedding Menu)—the type of food one finds at a Parsi wedding banquet. It consists of three courses: a fish course (there is a choice of Patrani Machi which is pomfret coated with a coriander-coconut chutney and steamed in a banana leaf or Fish Saas which is pomfret stewed in a sweet-sour-spicy white sauce ), a chicken course (choice of Sali Murgh which is a spicy chicken curry topped with very finely shredded and fried potato sticks or Chicken Farcha—breaded chicken cutlet). These two courses come with 2 chappatis each. They are followed by Chicken or Mutton Pullao served with Dhansak Dal. In addition to this, you get sweet-sour mango chutney, crispy sago wafers, a salad of onions and tomatoes with lime wedges and lagan nu custard (the typical Parsi wedding dessert—a baked custard: a sort of cross between a British fridge-set custard and a Parsi baked pudding).
The entire meal, which is supposed to feed one, is priced at Rs. 920 (about $13). Maria and I decided to share the entire affair and sagely divided each course between the two of us. Despite this, we were able to eat only half of our mutton pullao! Maria did not care for the custard at all and neither did I—but I did eat my half portion. The fish and the chicken were superb although I did not like the pullao or the dhansak too much—both were much too bland for my liking. I have to say that we received two plates, one of which was covered with a fresh green banana leaf. Maria took that plate and I took a plain china one (with no banana leaf). She chose to wash down her meal with a raspberry soda while I chose the ginger. Ginger is the aerated drink that my parents always drank if they had an uneasy stomach in the 1960s and I think it was pretty much the best digestive I could have chosen to accompany so vast a mid-day meal. In fact, I am glad we shared it as I did not leave the table feeling stuffed. Maria, on the other hand, did feel as if she had over-eaten and, sadly, she did pay the price for her enthusiasm, the next day!
After settling the bill and using the restroom, we moved on to the next item on our agenda. I must state that the restaurant is small and very unpretentious and had a steady stream of patrons who trooped in and out during our time there.
A Long-Awaited Visit to the Shivaji Museum:
The Shivaji Museum is the main museum of the city of Bombay and a place for which I have the deepest affection. I made frequent visits to it when I was a child, in the company of my parents—my favorite galleries, at that time, were the Natural History ones, where the stuffed animals and birds in their realistic settings never failed to fascinate me.
Over the years, when visiting Bombay from the US, I always included, in my itinerary, a visit to the Museum. And slowly, I learned my way around this stupendous space. Two years ago, when I was in Bombay on the year-long Fulbright Fellowship, I made frequent visits to the Museum over an entire year and learned its collection so well that I now know it like the back of my hand. Indeed, I am as familiar with this space as I am with the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York or the National Gallery in London.
We entered the main gate and were delighted to see a Welcome sign stating that the Museum is Open! Hallelujah! What pure, undiluted joy! Filled with excitement, we went to the Ticket Counter and bought our tickets for Rs. 75 each—a true steal! Next, we went through Security and walked the few meters ahead of us to the main entrance. In the process, we had a chance to admire the spectacular work of British architect George Wittet who is responsible for some of the most important government buildings in the city. Constructed in the early 20th century, the Museum opened its doors to visitors in January 1922—exactly 100 years ago! It felt like a privilege to be able to visit it again when it was celebrating its centenary. A grand structure, built with Indian architectural elements incorporated into its design, there is a gorgeous main dome, studded with pale blue mosaic bits and several smaller, ancillary domes—giving it the look of a Moghul mausoleum. Inside, there is a grand concourse, circular in shape with polished marble flooring, wide curving staircases with marble balustrades and a fabulous teak wood gallery which forms the second tier. In terms of design, this follows no known Victorian model—it is simply unique and distinctively Indian and it is for this precise reason that I love it so much.
My favorite floor is the second—it contains the glorious Dorab and Ratan Tata Collection of European Paintings and Decorative Arts (glassware, ceramics, porcelain, snuff bottles, etc.) and I have spent hours just gazing upon them and thinking how lucky we are, in the city of Bombay, to have items of this quality. I was so keen to introduce Maria to my favorite galleries, only to discover that the entire second floor—including the Jehangir Sabavala Gallery--is closed, due to renovation! What a disappointment! Oh well! I guess we’ll just have to get there again! Now that I am based long-term in Bombay, that will not be a problem.
We walked cursorily through the collection on the first floor verandah, taking a look at the vitrines that stud it and roaming through the few corridors that contain prints, etchings, etc. of colonial Bombay, a Tibetan section, etc. The walls are encircled by oil paintings representing the work of some of India’s best-known artists of the 20th century from M.V. Dhurandhar to the mid-century Progressive Artists Group represented by the works of Ara, Raza, Gaitonde, Souza, Hussain, etc. We did not do these justice as I was too disappointed to have missed the second floor. Maria and I will return and do just one section at a time, on future visits. This time, she got a sense of the layout of the museum, and we now do know how we will tackle each bit of it in time to come.
We did stop at a lovely exhibition of Swadeshi fabrics that was being held at the back in a separate hall. Here, fabrics representing the various states of India, as well as ready-made garments and some jewelry could be purchased. We had a good time looking at cotton and silk items but really did not feel inclined to buy anything. On our way out, we stopped at the Museum shop to take a look at its offerings—some really very nice buys, if one was interested in purchasing gifts.
With our visit to the museum done, and taking far less time than we had expected, we walked along the street towards the Jehangir Art Gallery to take in the street art that was mounted by local street artists. Most of it was of a very mediocre quality but I did see some striking oil paintings that caught my eye and could easily have graced the wall of a chic apartment. However, we did not linger too long and moved on, in the car, towards the Gateway of India.
Off to the Taj Mahal Hotel:
The Taj Mahal Hotel at the Gateway of India was the next item on our agenda. I wanted to go to its cake shop called La Patisserie to buy the famed almond rocks (dark chocolates studded with roasted almonds) that I have been buying and consuming by the kilo for as long as I can remember. It has been a long time since I had the opportunity to replenish my stocks and I grabbed it when it came. We also thought we could grab a cuppa and a Chocolate Truffle pastry at the Sea Lounge, the wonderful coffee shop that overlooks the Gateway of India and the Bombay habor. But, sadly, we were still too stuffed from our massive luncheon and the Sea Lounge was only serving its daily Afternoon Tea buffet which is priced at Rs. 2,500 for an all-you-can-eat feast. It would be a good idea to make this a separate star of yet another day out—but, on this occasion, we sought something lighter. The maître d’ suggested we try the Apollo Lounge. However, when we went there, we found it was merely a portion of the vast lobby of the Taj Mahal Hotel that was converted into a small tearoom—and we wanted something grander. So, inside the Shamiana we went but when we looked at its menu, we found it much too heavy for our needs. So, on the spur of the moment, we decided that when we returned to Crawford Market to finish off our day there, time and inclination permitting, we would go and get ourselves a royal falooda, for old times’ sake.
Our errand at La Patisserie did not take too long. I had a half kilo of the almond rocks packaged and bagged and ready for me to carry home. We then used the facilities at the Taj (this is something I always do when I am in the vicinity) and were delighted to run into Camilla Punjabi who was once Number Two at the Taj Group of Hotel (after President Ajit Kerkar). She also brought out a rather fine cookbook called 50 Great Curries of India (which I happen to own) and from which I have tried many a recipe. I told her that I was delighted to meet her ,that I own her book and cook often from it. She was equally delighted but a bit shy, I guess, and surprised at being so unexpectedly accosted by a fan!
Buying Deli Meats and Cold Cuts from Farm Products:
I had one more shop on my list for the day: a visit to a place called Farm Products which has also been on the same street for as long as I can remember, ie. The street parallell to the west side façade of the Taj. It used to be run by a Goan family called the Rochas (and I am told that descendants of the family still own it). When I was a little girl, this was the only shop in Bombay from where one could purchase ‘European meats’ such as ham, bacon, cocktail sausages or luncheon meat. I remember many visits to this enticing outlet with my late Godmother, my Aunt Anne, who bought these items by the carload. In those days, the shop used to be filled with white expatriates living in Bombay. When manufacturers like Mafco, Shalimar, etc. were established, “Rochas” was no longer a novelty. However, because it is one of those rare places in Bombay that still cures its own cold meats in-house, I buy my supply from here, freeze the slices in baggies and use them as and when needed.
For Maria, this shop too was a revelation. She too joined me in buying a number of cured meats such as ham, bacon, luncheon meat and, for the first time (for me, at least), what are called “Oxford Sausages”—these looked like Cumberland sausages such as are served as “bangers” in England with mash. I could not wait to get home to try them as I have never found these thick sausages anywhere else in Bombay. I bought a bunch of them and, pleased with our purchases, we left the store.
Back in the car, we told our driver to take us back to Crawford Market as Maria needed to exchange a kitchen metal stand and buy some oranges.
Back at the Beginning—at Crawford Market Again:
What a shock we received when he reached Crawford Market this time round! It was vastly more crowded than it had been at 10.30 am—indeed, it was simply heaving! Everywhere we turned, we saw tons of people—on the streets, crossing the roads, on the traffic island, in their cars, in the shops, you name it, it was populated! Maria hurried with her errand which left us with only the oranges to purchase.
So, leaving that item unfinished, we headed for Badshah as we were passing right by the restaurant. It, too, was packed. We had to wait for a few minutes until two seats became available upstairs in a cooler part of the eatery. Since we were still very full, we chose to split a royal falooda—luckily, one can do this sort of thing in Bombay. The order is called a ‘One by Two’—it involves ordering one item and splitting it equally between two patrons. Our falooda arrived with its rose syrup at the bottom and its layers of corn flour noodles, plumped up chia seeds, a lot of milk and the inevitable scoop of vanilla ice-cream at the top. Oh, how quickly it whisked us back to the days of our respective childhoods! In fact, as Maria was raised in the suburb of Bandra and I was raised in the city, we were amazed at how similar were our associations with Badshah and the falooda. We had a few good laughs over our falooda as we received the breather we needed. As the evening was progressing rapidly, we paid our bill and left quickly.
The last stop was the fruit market and it was there that we purchased dozens of oranges in two varieties and a box of fresh figs as I do love figs and buy them whenever I can. That purchase made, we waited outside for the car at which point we were accosted by a seller of green apples. We ended up buying a dozen apples each before we piled back into our car and started our journey home.
Stopping at Lower Parel:
Maria had one more small errand to run. He had to meet her friend Bhanoo at Lower Parel to hand something over to her. This detour caused us to be caught in really awful traffic on our way back and delayed us considerably, after what had been a very smooth series of short rides from one venue to the next throughout the day. However, as neither of us was in too much of a hurry, we did not mind the delay. Soon, we arrived at her friend’s building, parcels changed hands and we were off on the last leg of our journey home to Bandra. We were back by about 7.30 pm when I went directly to my Dad’s house to pick up some medical reports of my brother in order to send them to the office of his orthopedist. I only stopped there for five minutes before I was dropped at my building and helped by Shekar, the driver, to carry my items up to my flat—as, it turned out, I had done quite a bit of shopping through the day!
And there you have it! A fabulous day that was punctuated by shots of history and literature, art appreciation, museum musing, delicious food in unusual locations and a stop-in with a friend. Maria and I have every intention to spend an occasional Saturday in exactly this fashion and with Nafisa as a willing partner, I am sure we will have many such days of manic meandering in store for us now that the pandemic has (mostly) passed.
Until next time…happy wandering!
